 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take If Ivar notices the sullen cast to her golden face, he gives no sign of it. He only waits, silent and patient, until Ichor acquiesces and joins him in the water. She corrects him on the name of the flower, but still he murmurs, “Mhm hmm. Like I said, a daisy thing.” as she passes hm by. The kelpie’s dark eyes are teasing; he doesn’t truly mind being wrong about things that aren’t important. He’ll never need to know the name of the little yellow flowers on the opposite bank, and he forgets it quickly in favor of looking at something much more interesting. Ichor is wading into deeper water now, and the dark water swallows up her golden figure. Ivar swallows as well, quelling the quiet urge to (take her) While his need is always present, the kelpie is not always victim to the hunger. There are times when he can ignore it, times when he can suppress it almost entirely. This is one of those times, yet when he slides into the water beside her, Ivar trails his dripping muzzle across the curve of her hip and up her back. He prods the quiet coals of his hunger and dances back out of the fire (pulling away from her as he dives beneath the water). In the same way he enjoys testing his physical prowess against the sea, Ivar finds enjoyment in affirming his mental capacities as well. Beneath the surface of the water, the pale light of the evening is all but gone. Ivar dives to the shallow riverbed propelled by a lengthened tail and fin-like hind limbs. There, he spins back around, revealing in the icy bite of the water against his scales. The current tugs at his mane, but it is weak in this little tributary. Though he’d not mind staying down here, he knows that Ichor did want the daisies, so he surfaces with a playful flick of his tail that sends water spritzing across the champagne mare. “C’mon, slowpoke.” in my dark times, baby this is all i could be |
@[Ichor]