05-25-2018, 05:46 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Ivar is not certain why the women in his life have suddenly become so sad. He had not guessed from her reaction to his touch (she too acts as though no time has passed at all), but her voice as she answers his is quiet and small. Ichor’s explanation at first seems nonsensical; what monsters might possible lurk beneath the clear water of the river? (prey) It has been a while since he felt that sensation. Ichor presses her little head beneath his chin, and Ivar grows very still. (easy prey) The champagne creature is very small, and her thin skin barely holds back the flutter of her heart. As if at the image, the kelpie feels her wings quiver for a moment agains him, shedding minuscule golden scales in a way that is reminiscent of his childhood. For the first time in a long time he thinks of his mother, a small dark figure against a backdrop of the autumnal sylvan woods. The need quiets, though he draws an scaled muzzle along the smooth line of her blonde mane. The piebald creature’s touch is not quite intimate, though he does not lean away from where she has pressed herself against his side. “I would keep you safe.” He promises, remembering the last time he had asked something of her. Ichor had given in, blinked her too-wide eyes at him so eagerly the last time. Would she still react the same, he wonders? Or should he make sure that she does in the same manner he had before? When she starts to turn away, Ivar reacts without hesitation, grabbing hold of a strand of her mane between his glistening teeth. He doesn’t intend to let her slip away so easily. “I’m very real,” he tells her, his dark eyes flitting over the extra pair of legs and the strange wings. Still the same Ichor, he sees, but a little different. Grown up more. There is a strange conflict of emotions in Ivar’s chest as he realizes this, but his gentle smile never fades as he seeks to meet Ichor’s gaze. |
<3 @[Ichor]