Carlos
Oliver
Northwind Sea

Oliver was lazily drifting, bathed in the frigid waters of the northern ocean. His hands were comfortably placed on the back of his head, embedded into the wild mane of his honeyed hair; nights like this had always been a particular weakness of his. The way the moon kissed him, almost as if it was greeting his tan skin, sent him reeling back into pleasant memories of being surrounded by friends and women. Of course, he didn't bid farewell to those memories, but now he kept kinder souls close to his own. 
In regards to those he had brought into his walls, Iver was the most treasured of the stragglers. Oliver found himself sinking beneath the waves, like the burden of his worry dragged him down; really, it was the gentle embrace of the ocean pulling him in. He still found himself stewing in stress. Would his brother come back this evening?
Marion
Iver Trok
Northwind Sea

And soon, in the deep, he would. Oliver would first feel the heartbeat of said brother echoing through the water, syncing with his own. And then, his voice, like a deep echo would cast through the waters as Iver felt his brother as well.

"*Gnaiigof'n*..." His deep voice cut through the water like a blade. Of course, he was still pissed at him for his endless teasing and insensitivity to how much this mattered.
Carlos
Oliver
Northwind Sea

With a resigned sigh, Oliver dipped his torso into the water and drifted downward, towards the source of the rumble. His eyes pierced the inky depths, glittering gold that shone through that murky dark. Oliver's own thumping heart intertwined with Iver's, creating a frenzied skirmish between the opposing tempos.

"*Gn'th*," He mused in turn, "I never thought you would come back."

The Scribe's voice rang like an amused, silky purr; it paired well with his elegant features, a sort of ethereal grace that most Scribes had the ocean to thank for. Eventually, his keen vision caught sight of his brother, to his smothered relief.

"Have you caught something? I can feel it, the little dance of your pittering heart. You've found yourself with a catch far too big for that pole of yours," Oliver teased him, though it was light and clearly playful, "Really, I'm glad you've returned. I thought the ocean had swallowed you, but no.. It was only that woman."
Marion
Iver Trok
Northwind deep

Iver rolled his eyes as he swam close to Oliver, his eyebrows still twitching with annoyance. "Ah, missed me, have you? Truly, your jealousy is blinding. Aye, I left, but I'm a part of the sea. Forever and always. And *Sadly* That means I can't get rid of *You*." 

He face him, reaching over and flicking the center of Oliver's forehead. He then looked up toward the moon shimmering through and dancing across their faces. "That woman is quite something, I wouldn't hide it from you even if I could, you know. And the *Size* Of my *Pole* Ain't 'ave nothing to do with it... Go ahead and keep bringing it up. Your insults don't make *Yours* Any larger."
Carlos
Oliver
Northwind Sea

He smirked, reaching up to grab Iver's wrist with a soft laugh that almost resembled a gentle rain. 

"Oh, you bastard. We both know that I don't needta try to show off the size of mine. Not that it matters, 'cause I don't grab up any little lady I find on th' beach. I could if I wanted, but you... Well..." Oliver slapped him on the back, at least, as well as he could beneath the water. 
"Good to see you, bro. You and your little itty bitty self. There's no other Iver after my heart. As much as you can't get me off ya back, you just won't hop off'a my tail, either. I think we would both prefer to keep it that way."
Oliver let himself sink onto his back, descending toward the bottom of the deep blue. He didn't say anything to Iver, but assumed that his brother would just follow him; if not, his voice carried well enough.
Marion
Iver Trok
Northwind Coast

Iver rolled his eyes, sinking down with him. He preferred the ocean floor, anyway. What Oliver said troubled him, though.

"Ollie, She isn't just *Any* Little lady drunk outside the tavern, like the ones I'm sure you've... *Had tales* With. She's a proper noble. This isn't a fuck and sail off kind of thing, trust me, it surprised me too." He explained, pulling off the blue tunic he had and tying it about his waist as his feet landed on the ocean floor.

He preferred the water touching his skin directly, he only ever did this below the waves and with close company. Scribes didn't feel the cold as they were a part of it, and Iver preferred to have it connect with him directly.

"Of course it's good to see me, I'm fucking great. Do ya even *Know* Another Iver?" He responded, flashing him a gold-toothed smile. "I wouldn't change it, no, Ollie. Even though you're a son of a two-piece whore and as dramatic as a virgin who's seen a cock, I find it deep in my heart to still love you. You're welcome."
Carlos
Oliver
Northwind Sea

"As much of a drama king as I am, there just isn't another Oliver. You're stuck with me, brother."
He hit the floor of the ocean, and a bit of sand stirred as his body hit it. Otherwise, Oliver was comfortable embedded into the soft sand as if he were another shell among the display of the ocean's treasures. The only thing that he wore was a tightly bound skirt, weaved by the Mother and threaded with her love. He adjusted the thick band that fastened it to his waist.

"You know, I'll haveta see this *Lady* For myself. I think... Ah! Yes, you've said that all 'fore, probably about some other poke that'cha eyed on the beach. I'm sure she's different though," His gilded eyes wandered towards Iver's, and his final statement lowered to an antagonistic, playful purr.
"...*Riiiiight?*"
Marion
Iver Trok
Northwind Coast

And suddenly, Iver wished that gunpowder lit underwater and a gun to prove the point. He rolled his eyes, stepping over the top of Ollie and crouching down to put his own face close to Oliver's. "You and I both know I not gotten any *Underskirt playtime* For 7 years, as I've been busy having to deal with *Your* Fuck-ups you have on the shore. Fancyin' a lady ain't against the rules *And this is more than fancy.* The sea's called me, Gnaiigof'n. Unlike you, my choices don't change with the tides. I'm sure about this one."

Take away the sass and the annoyance and focussing on the Scribe's spiritual nature, to say that the sea's called him is the most high way of sureness. Iver was a very spiritual man, with his connection to the ocean strong. Oliver knew this.

"Aye, *Little* Brother, She's different. She really is..." He said with a small nod. "But I'm sure a *Bilge rat* Like you would want ta ruin the good things because that's 'ow you *Get off*, innit? Or maybe you just want all of this man to *Yourself* Eh?" He gave him another wink before ruffling his mop of hair.