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!
25.Sep.13, 09:47 PM
Oh great, a few more flights until I see the signs. Because I'm so good at seeing signs in the first place. Z'jan resisted the urge to ball up his fist and bang it against O'wain's chest. Not for anything the brownrider had done, but simply as an outlet for his growing anger. Anger at his own stupidity. O'wain's words, however, did have something of a calming effect. Reassurances were always, well... reassuring. Even if he wasn't sure he believed them.
Despite his current melancholy and uncharacteristically moody demeanor, Z'jan couldn't stifle his chuckle at imagining how this flight could have gone. O'wain was right. It could have been worse. Far worse.
He squinted against the sun, daring a peak at their surroundings. Yup, still a cliff ledge. While things could have gone worse, they definitely could also have gone better...
Z'jan swallowed, taking comfort in the arms encircling him and the hand rubbing circles on his back. And to say that O'wain was particularly virile would be an understatement. Z'jan was truly baffled at how, despite their precarious situation, the other man could once again have a hard-on. Though, thinking about it further, maybe it wasn't that strange. Adrenaline turned Z'jan on. And he supposed a high altitude fuck with the danger of tumbling off a rocky slope fit pretty squarely in the "adrenaline" category
But once again, O'wain's words drew him back. "No." Z'jan said squarely 'I'm not sleeping here." He was uncharacteristically resolute. He wanted a wash. He wanted to be warm. And he wanted to lick his wounds in peace. And none of those were possible here. "If I have to scream bloody murder to wake her up, I'll do it." He set his teeth, pouty and difficult for the first time in a very long while. Post-flight whatever. And if she doesn't like it, he snarled to himself she can bite me.
"My clothes..." he said this absently, shifting in O'wain's arms to peer around him, as much as he could in the bright, slanted rays of late afternoon light. "I don't know..." he saw nothing in the immediate vicinity that was his own. He started to prop himself up, but hit a sour spot. He cringed sharply, bucking against O'wain as he tried to shift back to his previous, less painful position. He took a moment, gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead against O'wain's chest.
He recovered himself, then forced a laugh past his cringing mouth."Man.. did you aim for my ribs, or what?" He gave the brownrider a lopsided smile glancing up at him for the first time. He knew it wasn't O'wain's fault. Not any of it. But, considering the circumstances, it was the best he could do in the way of levity. And something about the brownrider made him blush. The absurdity of the situation? The past experience in the woods? The simple fact that the other man was attractive? Where was Ghalath's analysis when he needed it?
Feeling that his face must reddening, his looked away. Since when did he blush? It must be Ghalath's lingering emotions. Girls he sighed, secretly deciding it'd be easier to blame her than himself at this point.
As he tiled his head to avoid O'wain's gaze, his eyes caught a flicker of something on the bright horizon. He squinted harder, body tensing. What was... a dragon? The didn't recognize the hide color, and almost mistook the beast for a gold. But now, a bit too small. A coppery....
Z'JAN IT'S A FUCKING DRAGON STOP FUCKING AROUND! his subconscious hit him like a punch. A Dragon! "Look" he nearly shouted in O'wain's ear, only a few inches away "it's a ---OWfuck--Dragon!" He'd tried to shift midsentence, unmindful of his bruised ribs. Mistake. He grit his teeth, giving O'wain a play-but-serious punch to the shoulder. "Flag them! Ow,ow..." and nope, trying to wriggle from O'wain's grasp wasn't any less painful. Perhaps the brownrider still thought he was going to roll of the ledge. "Shit, wher're my... pan---shir---anything."
Despite his current melancholy and uncharacteristically moody demeanor, Z'jan couldn't stifle his chuckle at imagining how this flight could have gone. O'wain was right. It could have been worse. Far worse.
He squinted against the sun, daring a peak at their surroundings. Yup, still a cliff ledge. While things could have gone worse, they definitely could also have gone better...
Z'jan swallowed, taking comfort in the arms encircling him and the hand rubbing circles on his back. And to say that O'wain was particularly virile would be an understatement. Z'jan was truly baffled at how, despite their precarious situation, the other man could once again have a hard-on. Though, thinking about it further, maybe it wasn't that strange. Adrenaline turned Z'jan on. And he supposed a high altitude fuck with the danger of tumbling off a rocky slope fit pretty squarely in the "adrenaline" category
But once again, O'wain's words drew him back. "No." Z'jan said squarely 'I'm not sleeping here." He was uncharacteristically resolute. He wanted a wash. He wanted to be warm. And he wanted to lick his wounds in peace. And none of those were possible here. "If I have to scream bloody murder to wake her up, I'll do it." He set his teeth, pouty and difficult for the first time in a very long while. Post-flight whatever. And if she doesn't like it, he snarled to himself she can bite me.
"My clothes..." he said this absently, shifting in O'wain's arms to peer around him, as much as he could in the bright, slanted rays of late afternoon light. "I don't know..." he saw nothing in the immediate vicinity that was his own. He started to prop himself up, but hit a sour spot. He cringed sharply, bucking against O'wain as he tried to shift back to his previous, less painful position. He took a moment, gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead against O'wain's chest.
He recovered himself, then forced a laugh past his cringing mouth."Man.. did you aim for my ribs, or what?" He gave the brownrider a lopsided smile glancing up at him for the first time. He knew it wasn't O'wain's fault. Not any of it. But, considering the circumstances, it was the best he could do in the way of levity. And something about the brownrider made him blush. The absurdity of the situation? The past experience in the woods? The simple fact that the other man was attractive? Where was Ghalath's analysis when he needed it?
Feeling that his face must reddening, his looked away. Since when did he blush? It must be Ghalath's lingering emotions. Girls he sighed, secretly deciding it'd be easier to blame her than himself at this point.
As he tiled his head to avoid O'wain's gaze, his eyes caught a flicker of something on the bright horizon. He squinted harder, body tensing. What was... a dragon? The didn't recognize the hide color, and almost mistook the beast for a gold. But now, a bit too small. A coppery....
Z'JAN IT'S A FUCKING DRAGON STOP FUCKING AROUND! his subconscious hit him like a punch. A Dragon! "Look" he nearly shouted in O'wain's ear, only a few inches away "it's a ---OWfuck--Dragon!" He'd tried to shift midsentence, unmindful of his bruised ribs. Mistake. He grit his teeth, giving O'wain a play-but-serious punch to the shoulder. "Flag them! Ow,ow..." and nope, trying to wriggle from O'wain's grasp wasn't any less painful. Perhaps the brownrider still thought he was going to roll of the ledge. "Shit, wher're my... pan---shir---anything."
