23.Aug.13, 11:39 PM
Z'jan chuckled at O'wain's explanation, speaking to the brown, though more for O'wain to hear. "It's ok buddy. We've all get the heebiejeebies about something. And I promise I'm not stealing your man" he allowed for a partial rise of his brows "well, not any more than your rider is stealing Ghalath's man."
Ghalath, for her part, wasn't particularly in tune with the conversation. She sucked herself in small and still again as Nishkath approached and settled. Eventually, she began to relax, but her attention was divided between Z'jan and making sure the giant brown blob didn't touch her. Though he was doing a marvelous and gentlemanly job, if Z'jan could say so himself. But he kept his mouth shut. Complimenting Nishkath's restraint and tempered behavior in front of Ghalath would only succeed in embarrassing the green.
"Naw, Ghalath's tough. She just likes to..." how the hell to explain it, "...keep an eye on everybody?" But that answer didn't appease Ghalath. [ghalath] it's not like I'm babysitting, he's older. And--[/ghalath] she gave a definitive, defiant, and slightly awkward snort [ghalath] --I am not eyeing him[/ghalath]. To that, Z'jan had no comment.
He'd nearly forgotten he was holding a rock until O'wain commented on it. He glanced down at his hand as though the thing had betweened there. "Oh, right. Cool." He allowed O'wain to do the rest of the collecting, however, then followed the brownrider back to the fire. Halfway back he realized he probably should have washed his chest off. Exactly as O'wain has predicted, the slight damp of sweat that he incurred after standing in the sun had made the wounds, however tiny they may be, start to smart. But how bad could it be? It's not like there were poisonous branches or anything... right? Right. So he kept his mouth shut, instead watching O'wain put the fire together, glaze the wherry with wild berries, and all in all set the imaginary table with white linen. This guy had his shit together. Meanwhile, Z'jan stood around scratching his sticky neck. Very helpful.
When O'wain finished, Z'jan jumped on the opportunity to head back to the water. "I think you were right about these," he said, tentatively poking the red markes on his chest and arms. "They could probably use a rinse. Besides, my pants are half dry this point and, well--" no delicate way to say it "--definitely starting to chafe. Go for a dive?" He nodded towards the lake. But his expression wasn't as simple as it usually was; there was a dare in it. After all, there's quite a large difference between a swim and a dive.
At least, the way Z'jan rolled there was.
Ghalath, for her part, wasn't particularly in tune with the conversation. She sucked herself in small and still again as Nishkath approached and settled. Eventually, she began to relax, but her attention was divided between Z'jan and making sure the giant brown blob didn't touch her. Though he was doing a marvelous and gentlemanly job, if Z'jan could say so himself. But he kept his mouth shut. Complimenting Nishkath's restraint and tempered behavior in front of Ghalath would only succeed in embarrassing the green.
"Naw, Ghalath's tough. She just likes to..." how the hell to explain it, "...keep an eye on everybody?" But that answer didn't appease Ghalath. [ghalath] it's not like I'm babysitting, he's older. And--[/ghalath] she gave a definitive, defiant, and slightly awkward snort [ghalath] --I am not eyeing him[/ghalath]. To that, Z'jan had no comment.
He'd nearly forgotten he was holding a rock until O'wain commented on it. He glanced down at his hand as though the thing had betweened there. "Oh, right. Cool." He allowed O'wain to do the rest of the collecting, however, then followed the brownrider back to the fire. Halfway back he realized he probably should have washed his chest off. Exactly as O'wain has predicted, the slight damp of sweat that he incurred after standing in the sun had made the wounds, however tiny they may be, start to smart. But how bad could it be? It's not like there were poisonous branches or anything... right? Right. So he kept his mouth shut, instead watching O'wain put the fire together, glaze the wherry with wild berries, and all in all set the imaginary table with white linen. This guy had his shit together. Meanwhile, Z'jan stood around scratching his sticky neck. Very helpful.
When O'wain finished, Z'jan jumped on the opportunity to head back to the water. "I think you were right about these," he said, tentatively poking the red markes on his chest and arms. "They could probably use a rinse. Besides, my pants are half dry this point and, well--" no delicate way to say it "--definitely starting to chafe. Go for a dive?" He nodded towards the lake. But his expression wasn't as simple as it usually was; there was a dare in it. After all, there's quite a large difference between a swim and a dive.
At least, the way Z'jan rolled there was.