At the River's Edge [Valerian]

Valerian stumbled back two steps and made extremely unflattering noises that sounded like he had just had poorly cooked dinner featuring his least favourite food as the image he had tried to keep from forming hit him hard and with more detail than he would have been able to supply. Given Larrikith’s statement he had a feeling she had something to do with the vividness of the idea and filling in the blanks of how B’jin would like nude on a bed. He waved a hand in front of his face as if doing so would dispel the image but if it did, he wouldn’t care how silly he had to look to the rider left in the dark about his thoughts. When the images finally began fading back into the recesses of his mind where they would hopefully be locked down and never brought up again, he wrinkled his nose again and briefly wondered if hanging around dragons was such an amazing thing after all. “I didn’t need to see him,” Valerian pointed at B’jin with the brush he still held, “sprawled on furs giving come hither eyes.” How much of that was Larrikith’s inspiration or some fantasy he had with anyone but the greenrider, he wasn’t sure, but either way, he was holding his ground with the beautiful green trickster.

He cocked his head to one side and then the other as he considered Larrikith and then gave her a good poke to the snout with an accusing finger, “aren’t you a tad small compared to the others I’ve seen around?” He didn’t care what size she was, and if she was still in his mind than Larrikith would know that, but Valerian had to get his own little revenge in for her mental torture and the question he’d wanted to ask since finding his words again upon coming across the pair seemed like a small but good enough way.