dark side of the morning - anyone

[Ivar]

i'll use you as a makeshift gauge
of how much to give and how much to take

He imagines that he sees a star far out at sea, glimmering just above the horizon. Mother had told him once that stars were distant suns, many with places not terribly different than Beqanna circling them the same way that Beqanna circles its sun. He had taken in the story the same way he had the tale Warrick has just told of Pele. Fascinating, regardless of if he’ll ever be able to verify it.

He is grateful to the older stallion for both the tale and the journey through Tephra, though in his exuberance he has quite forgotten to mention it. It is only when the sky-haired stallion wishes him well that he remembers his manners. With a smile he says: “Thanks. For everything, I mean.” He returns the bump of his shoulder in turn, the gesture reminding him of the way that he greets his father. He wonders if Dad would like this stranger. He is sure Mother would, so when Warrick tells him that he’s not every been to Sylva, Ivar doesn’t hesitate to invite him.

“You should come!” He says enthusiastically, quite forgetting the wariness he feels with the volcano so near, and pawing at the sand. “It’s really nice; lots of rocks and trees that are always gold.” The wonder of trees that do not change might not be as remarkable to a horse that lives in evergreen Tephra, but it is still something new.

“Mom wouldn’t mind,” he assures Warrick, remembering immediately to not make the same awkward mistake he had with Nyka in the Field. “Mom’s the queen, so she can decide things like that. Queen Djinni.”

IVAR