[G] [C] 734.09.25 | A Colourful Thank You

“Naw,” Z’ia cooed, fluttering his lashes at J’ver coyly, “how sweet!” Barely a glance at the item J’ver was forcing upon him was needed to inform Z’ia that he could have lived long and well without any such gift. His face betrayed no such thought, however, as nimble fingers took the item with every outward expression of interest and delight. Holding it up, and out, Z’ia gave a quick flick of the wrists, effectively unfolding the item and spreading it out before him. He studied it thoughtful, one corner of his lips quirking upwards in an amused smile.

Pretty! The almost juvenile delight in his dragon’s voice, conveyed so strongly on that single word, told Z’ia that any dreams he might have had kindling, of destroying the gaudy shirt, were dead in that moment. Aveleth liked the damned thing, and Z’ia knew without any doubt that the damned dragon would make him wear it. On the bright side, he supposed, ti could only help his overall image within the Weyr. On a personal level, however, he might have to poison J’ver. Seeing S’kef running around in the awful mish-mash of colours and patterns had always amused Z’ia greatly; karma, he supposed. At least it was coming in the form of a heinous shirt, and not his own poisoned wine.

Z’ia arched an eyebrow and peered at J’ver sideways. “I see your talents with a kneedle and thread has not diminished.” It was a pity the landslide had not landed on the greasy little bastard’s head. Maybe it would have knocked some colour sense into him! A sly smile flickered into life on the bluerider’s lips and he tilted his head, curls bouncing joyously around his shoulders. “Does S’kef know you spend so much time ogling me?” He raised his eyebrows, giving them a little wiggle. “I do believe this will fit spectacularly.” A particularly unfortunate detail Z’ia had noticed. If it had been a lousy fit, he could have shelved it. Fucking greenriding whores.

But it’s so pretty! the dragon’s voice lingered somewhere around the realm of a hesitant whisper, and Z’ia barely retained a droll snort. He was almost tempted to tell his dragon he could wear it, if he liked it so much, but Z’ia wasn’t keen on the idea of Aveleth passing along such notions and J’ver actually making one of the heinous things for his delightful and beautiful dragon. He would just have to make sure it ended up ruined somehow, preferably before too long.

“I’m sure Rhaedalyn will be enthralled,” Z’ia chirped cheerfully, grinning as he folded the shirt up very carefully and placed it on his lap. He had no doubt that J’ver had his suspicions about the game Z’ia was playing with the young goldrider, but Z’ia was far from inclined to give his hand away, especially to someone the likes of which would just as swiftly turn it against him.