Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
26.Aug.13, 02:51 PM
Z'jan listened to O'wain, his throat constricting slightly. Shit. It was becoming a thing. Still, it was odd. What little Z'jan knew of O'wain's reputation was that the brownrider had no inclination of settling down. Which was great news for Z'jan, as far as he was concerned. So what was this 'I'll cook you dinner and then we can enjoy desert' invitation all about? And more importantly, how would he get out of it?
"Sounds... good."
Well, nice one.
Though O'wain's suggested itinerary (naked, he might add) didn't illicit the same placid reaction. Was Z'jan against flying bareback? Meh, not really. He couldn't imagine Ghalath would like it much. Still, it's not like the green hadn't seen him naked before. In honesty, she'd probably seen him naked as much as clothed. She was his dragon, after all. Her knew her mottled hide as well as she knew his scarred body.
No, it wasn't the flying naked itself that bothered Z'jan. It was the continued naked company of O'wain. Sex was over. He didn't regret it, not one bit, but that didn't mean he wanted to linger on it. The past was past. And Z'jan hated the past. Only now mattered.
And now he really had to go--
O'wain started sitting up before Z'jan, leaving the younger greenrider in a slightly compromised position. Their laps were still crossed. And O'wain's hands were still on him... not unpleasantly... definitely not... but... butt
Get up. Don't wait longer. Don't make it weirder
Z'jan flexed his jaw, then pushed himself up onto his elbows. Slowly, so as not to suggest his strong desire to flee, he turned and pulled his legs off of O'wain's lap... making a conspicuous effort not to eye the fifth limb that lingered underneath. Z'jan's arms and legs, and hell, his whole body, was speckled with bits of forest detritus. And not excluding places best left unmentioned. He'd need a wash.
"Clothes might be better, yeah. You know--" he didn't know where he was going with that. Fuck. "Uh... I think Ghalath still has my shirt. My pants are... somewhere. By the fire, maybe." He tried to play it cool, but his eyes were busy darting around the small clearing. He kept his head tilted mostly away from O'wain, so it was possible that rider didn't notice. Though it was also very possible he did. With a final shift of his body, he was sitting next to O'wain, his left shoulder and hip touching O'wains right.
The thorn bushes created a wall behind them, and the only way out was small path between the trees: the way they'd come charging in. How was he going to do this?
"Hey, so... do you think... I mean, I need to wash off." annnnd "Could you, maybe... find my pants? Then, uh..' keep gooooing "I'll meet you... at the lake?"
Because suddenly, Z'jan had a plan. A tentative plan, maybe. A bad plan, likely.
But he had a plan.
"Sounds... good."
Well, nice one.
Though O'wain's suggested itinerary (naked, he might add) didn't illicit the same placid reaction. Was Z'jan against flying bareback? Meh, not really. He couldn't imagine Ghalath would like it much. Still, it's not like the green hadn't seen him naked before. In honesty, she'd probably seen him naked as much as clothed. She was his dragon, after all. Her knew her mottled hide as well as she knew his scarred body.
No, it wasn't the flying naked itself that bothered Z'jan. It was the continued naked company of O'wain. Sex was over. He didn't regret it, not one bit, but that didn't mean he wanted to linger on it. The past was past. And Z'jan hated the past. Only now mattered.
And now he really had to go--
O'wain started sitting up before Z'jan, leaving the younger greenrider in a slightly compromised position. Their laps were still crossed. And O'wain's hands were still on him... not unpleasantly... definitely not... but... butt
Get up. Don't wait longer. Don't make it weirder
Z'jan flexed his jaw, then pushed himself up onto his elbows. Slowly, so as not to suggest his strong desire to flee, he turned and pulled his legs off of O'wain's lap... making a conspicuous effort not to eye the fifth limb that lingered underneath. Z'jan's arms and legs, and hell, his whole body, was speckled with bits of forest detritus. And not excluding places best left unmentioned. He'd need a wash.
"Clothes might be better, yeah. You know--" he didn't know where he was going with that. Fuck. "Uh... I think Ghalath still has my shirt. My pants are... somewhere. By the fire, maybe." He tried to play it cool, but his eyes were busy darting around the small clearing. He kept his head tilted mostly away from O'wain, so it was possible that rider didn't notice. Though it was also very possible he did. With a final shift of his body, he was sitting next to O'wain, his left shoulder and hip touching O'wains right.
The thorn bushes created a wall behind them, and the only way out was small path between the trees: the way they'd come charging in. How was he going to do this?
"Hey, so... do you think... I mean, I need to wash off." annnnd "Could you, maybe... find my pants? Then, uh..' keep gooooing "I'll meet you... at the lake?"
Because suddenly, Z'jan had a plan. A tentative plan, maybe. A bad plan, likely.
But he had a plan.
