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!
19.Nov.13, 09:23 AM
Z’ia pouted unhappily at being called a filthy animal, looking sadly down at his feet and then up at A’liran from under his lashes and a mess of curls, his thoughts as far from his face as ever. Filthy animal indeed! Oh, A’liran was going to pay dearly for all the insults he was laying down today! A flicker of malicious intent flashed in Z’ia’s eyes, just enough to allow the greenrider to catch a glimpse of what type of punishment he would be at the receiving end of next time Aveleth caught his randy whore of a green. Then it was gone, hidden once more under layers of upset and innocent bluerider.
“Okay,” Z’ia murmured the word lightly and inched towards the edge of the bed warily, making a great show of being afraid of the other man throwing a tantrum and launching an attack at him. Z’ia was quite certain no one was watching them or liable to stick their nose in, but he was having a lot of fun fucking with his lust buddy, and games were what made the tiny troublemakers world go ‘round. When he spotted his shirt, Z’ia made quick work of nipping in, grabbing it, and dancing quickly well out of reach of A’liran again, not at all interested in getting kicked in the face or … whatever the greenrider was surely planning to do to him. Z’ia had trouble believing A’liran – who always fought back – would not be planning some type of attack. Then again, maybe he had been broken (for a little while, at any rate!)
Tugging his shirt rapidly over his head, Z’ia made short work of shoving his arms into the sleeves and making sure he wasn’t in a liable position for any longer than absolutely required in order to dress himself. At least A’liran had attacked his face enough that Z’ia wasn’t going to walk out completely undamaged; just as thankfully, Z’ia was glad his eyes weren’t blacked. Blackened eyes really weren’t an attractive look (Unless you were R’nd… or a greenrider…) and Z’ia preferred to avoid them as often as possible!
Rocking forward onto his toes, Z’ia flashed A’liran a smug smirk, and whispered just loud enough to be caught by the other rider, but certainly not by anyone passing by or hovering outside; it was definitely well and truly early enough that anyone who could possibly be hovering about could be written off as a drunkard at any rate. “Catch you later, Precious.” Z’ia whispered, before rocking back his weight and backing to the door, which he swiftly slipped out of, and turned to skip his way home with a bouncy stride.
He’d try to remember to rescue his pants in the morning. There weren’t nearly enough made short enough in the leg to let them go to waste, but he also didn’t care enough to stumble around in A’liran’s yard like a drunkard looking for the right hole.
“Okay,” Z’ia murmured the word lightly and inched towards the edge of the bed warily, making a great show of being afraid of the other man throwing a tantrum and launching an attack at him. Z’ia was quite certain no one was watching them or liable to stick their nose in, but he was having a lot of fun fucking with his lust buddy, and games were what made the tiny troublemakers world go ‘round. When he spotted his shirt, Z’ia made quick work of nipping in, grabbing it, and dancing quickly well out of reach of A’liran again, not at all interested in getting kicked in the face or … whatever the greenrider was surely planning to do to him. Z’ia had trouble believing A’liran – who always fought back – would not be planning some type of attack. Then again, maybe he had been broken (for a little while, at any rate!)
Tugging his shirt rapidly over his head, Z’ia made short work of shoving his arms into the sleeves and making sure he wasn’t in a liable position for any longer than absolutely required in order to dress himself. At least A’liran had attacked his face enough that Z’ia wasn’t going to walk out completely undamaged; just as thankfully, Z’ia was glad his eyes weren’t blacked. Blackened eyes really weren’t an attractive look (Unless you were R’nd… or a greenrider…) and Z’ia preferred to avoid them as often as possible!
Rocking forward onto his toes, Z’ia flashed A’liran a smug smirk, and whispered just loud enough to be caught by the other rider, but certainly not by anyone passing by or hovering outside; it was definitely well and truly early enough that anyone who could possibly be hovering about could be written off as a drunkard at any rate. “Catch you later, Precious.” Z’ia whispered, before rocking back his weight and backing to the door, which he swiftly slipped out of, and turned to skip his way home with a bouncy stride.
He’d try to remember to rescue his pants in the morning. There weren’t nearly enough made short enough in the leg to let them go to waste, but he also didn’t care enough to stumble around in A’liran’s yard like a drunkard looking for the right hole.
Unless stated otherwise, Aveleth never speaks to anyone but Z'ia
