If only she knew that she wasn’t the strangest thing he’s seen by far! That some part of her was horse still and thus, recognizable. It might have done her some good. Laid some fears to rest. Conquered just a little bit of that loneliness that kept her aloof from others besides him (and two mares he’d once added to his collection that she had taken a shine to - Kindred and Trissy).
But Ichor doesn’t know. Doesn’t really assume either. She is content in her loneliness without him there because she has the moths in the night that act like she is their queen under the moon (or a priestess, a go-between) and she has the flowers and plants all of the time. Until it snows and the world is dead and empty. Except now is hardly the time to think of such things as she reacquainted herself with swimming much to his amusement.
He’d always had greater skill at it than she had. Probably because Ichor had been born but very nearly always fended for herself. The lamprey-mother had done her best to ensure her child’s survival but they’d had no way of knowing if her gills would sustain her underwater since she was more moth than anything else. It puts her at a disadvantage that he exploits easily and laughingly but she sees it always as a challenge to swim after him and dive just as deep. Only she may never ever swim in the sea - it’s always been the river for them and Ichor almost wouldn’t have it any other way.
The river was their place.
Beneath the river, she is clumsy in his domain. Here, he is more at home than she will ever be. Ichor can practically sense the joy that sings from every scaly fiber of him as he swims circles all around her, both above and under. Then she loses sight of him though currents are disrupted by his movement. Which causes further surprise as his touch registers at her gills.
They ripple as water still flows over them. Such delicate fluttering against his nose and what is all the more surprising is that Ichor doesn’t pull away. She hangs in a state of suspension, only making small careful adjustments of her six legs when she has to. Her head angles so that one black buggy eye can focus on him as his mouth moves down to her shoulder. She’s not sure what prompted the touch but she enjoyed it for what it was - him, inquisitive, exploratory.
Neither of them seems to be all that intent on moving and Ichor forgets the not-daisy he’d offered to get. There’s only the river and them.
@[Ivar] now she’s all like, he touched me eeeeeee!!!! haha