The Lost Islands
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Falls

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moonlight, I dream of you endlessly
Posted on July 24, 2020 at 10:43:54 PM by ylva

ylva

It’s been some years since Ylva left her motherland. There is still a slight lilt to her tongue, but it has faded considerably in just the few years she’s been on the islands, having washed up on their shores when she was young and malleable. She has become so used to the varied accents of the islands that it’s almost strange to hear a voice that would not have sounded out of place in her motherland. Bjorn’s accent is not identical to her own, and his words remain foreign to her ears, but there’s a feel to them that’s familiar to her, that somewhat calms the restlessness seething in her bones. She wants to ask him what the Norns are, but a large part of her does not want to invite any more conversation with these stallions than is necessary.

As Bjorn explains his relationship with Solomon, Ylva’s gaze flits to the latter’s face just in time to catch his wry smirk. Clearly these two have a history, and Ylva senses that it has not all been friendly. This would explain Solomon’s calculated jab - they are rivals. What, then, do they hope to accomplish in approaching her at the same time? Have they made a temporary truce?

Ylva finds her eye lingering on Solomon for a moment. He is difficult to read, and something about his presence makes her gut twist with discomfort, but he is easy on the eye, with his tall frame and silver coat, similar to Bjorn’s but paler and more loudly-marked. Both of them together smell so strongly of stallion that an electric mix of fear and desire shudder through her, forcing her to look at the ground momentarily and refocus her attention on the conversation at hand. She must find a way to end this, and soon.

Then Solomon redirects her own question back at her and Bjorn, indicating that he’d picked up on the subtle signs of familiarity between them. Her lips parted ever so slightly, Ylva’s gaze darts to Bjorn and then away again, as her mind digs for the appropriate explanation of their history. “There were disagreements between our herds. Thankfully it ended somewhat amicably,” she finally says, her cheeks burning with the unpleasant memory. She’s thankful when Solomon changes the topic again, and she takes the opportunity to check on her son, who is so far behaving himself in the company of Solomon’s son.

“Since before he was born,” she answers softly, her gaze growing gentle as she remembers the days she had spent weeping, sleeping, and hardly eating while Runar grew in her belly. For all the trouble he gives her, he has been the one constant in her life since Liland’s disappearance. “But we’re fine,” she adds quickly, her face hardening before the inevitable invitations can come. “It’s quiet here, and my eldest son comes to visit sometimes.”

---

Though Runar’s little heart thumps like a drum in his chest, his expression does not display the excitement he feels. He simply continues to stare at the other colt, dark eyes wide and glittering with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“What’s ‘tag’?” he enquires, his dark-rimmed ears twisting back and forth atop his head as he wonders what sort of social game doesn’t require talking. Runar only primarily has experience with solo games such as chasing insects, herding rabbits, and jumping fallen branches, for Ylva has rarely expressed any interest in joining him in his games, and either ignores or delivers a sharp nip to him if he becomes too rowdy for her tastes.

He chances another look at his mother, but so far she is still engrossed in her conversation with the two strangers.

5; norwegian fjord; red dun pangare; 14hh
html, image, & character by shiva


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