Hm, that’s new.
Usually the apparitions of Ivar never talked back to her so it was to dismiss each glimpse of him as nothing more than a very active and lonely imagination. Not only is it talking but it’s walking towards her. But that just can’t be! None of her imaginings had ever been so vivid as to seem as if they’re real.
What did I last eat?
I’m hallucinating...
It sounds like him. It smells like him. Even the press of dark muzzle to neck is like him. No! That just can’t be. This dream though, it’s too good to wake up from. Ichor sighs. She can’t help herself. It’s not love and maybe not even lust but Ivar was as familiar to her as the wings on her back that flutter for a moment - the only sign of her agitation.
This tree is touching me.
When did trees get entirely too familiar?
It’s not a tree. It’s Ivar but she is in complete and utter disbelief as he asks her why she didn’t want to go into the river. “Because there are monsters there.” she tells him sadly. The only monsters are the memories of that first time in the river with him before they mutated in a sudden and crippling fear of submerging herself in the loving arms of water. Doesn’t he know about the monsters? The Ivar in her imagination does. He tells her not to go in the water, only drink from it and even then, to be very careful.
Why won’t this tree stop talking in his voice?
Why does this tree feel so much like him?
Unconsciously the little mothmare leans against him. Almost rubs her head underneath his chin. He should feel all rough and barky like a tree. Why doesn’t he feel like a tree?! It’s not real - it can’t be real. But it feels so good! Ichor sighs again and starts to turn away from him.
“You’re not real.”
Neither am I.
@[Ivar]