bottom of the deep blue sea; ivar

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Unsure what wakes him, he yawns deeply and starts to roll. Except he doesn’t roll at all, because he is on land and not in the water, and all his efforts had achieved were a few slow flicks of his finned tail. At least there’s a cool spray of water from that, refreshing against his wind-dried and sun-warmed scales. His mane and tail are still damp. Dried salt comes off in a shower as he shakes his head and props himself up with his forelegs curling in front of him, and his finned tail floating in the shallows. Isobell is within reach, and he stretches toward her without thought, bushing his muzzle against what he can reach of her scaled hip with surprising gentleness. “I was having a dream,” he tells her sleepily, “You told me you were leaving Ischia, and that you were going to turn Nerine into a sea lions only land.” The kelpie chuckles at the absurdity of both of those things. Continuing to run his protruding teeth along Isobell’s pearlescent hip, he continues. “We weren’t on land when we fell asleep, were we?” Ivar does not like to sleep on land, but this cove is not one he knows well, and it seems that they’d drifted off in the shallows and the tide had gone out around them. and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

@[Isobell]