An Autumn Agenda [OPEN]

The way the dragon was eyeing off Plague did not go unnoticed by Z’ia, though beyond an amused, slightly smug look at the dragon, the tiny bluerider made no comment. He (and Plague, too) enjoyed the way she could so very easily make people and dragons uncomfortable, and entirely get away with it. Watching dragons squirm by the power of a firelizard barely the length of Z’ia’s forearm was both satisfying and hilarious. It was kind of like the way Z’ia could make men a foot taller than himself squirm without much effort. Satisfying indeed!

“Definitely getting a better deal,” Z’ia snorted. D’hys was still waiting to get the princess out of his panties, and Z’ia was very much enjoying watching his friend squirm and grumble even if he didn’t actually squirm or grumble. He’d give the bluerider props for being determined to win the little ice queen over, but he was definitely given V’zire props for making D’hys work so hard for it. The ridiculous greenrider would probably regret making D’hys work so hard when he finally spread his legs; the bluerider would be frustrated and Z’ia was not sure he could ever picture D’hys being overly delicate. Oh well. Z’ia’s opinion was more or less that greenriders were born wanting it, and if they were not, they learned to as soon as their slutty dragon picked them out of the crowd.

The fact that blueriders were notorious for running around taking such things far more than greenriders ever willing gave was not something Z’ia put together, and even if he did, he’d just shrug. It was his right as a bluerider to take what he wanted from a greenrider. That is why their dragons were coloured that way, and why he was a bluerider and not some primped up princess on green.

The sudden anxiety and amused discomfort from Aveleth had Z’ia’s gaze switching to his moments-ago excited blue to see him squirming placidly after Besulth’s croon, and Z’ia snorted, smiling fondly as Aveleth confirmed that the brown had welcomed him back, but he carefully hid what had been said with embarrassment. Z’ia snorted again, deeply amused, and petted his timid young dragon on the nose. “And I didn’t do anything, Kiddo.” He reassured, still smiling as Aveleth cautiously spread his wings out fully, enjoying both the light breeze and the warm sunshine on the thin membrane.

If you say so, Z’ia, Aveleth agreed placidly, eyes swirling happily as the tiny rider bounced over to his collection of miscellaneous items and came bounding back with the large bucket of oil. The liquid, scented with citrus extracts, gave Aveleth a spunky, fresh scent that was likely more closely associated with Z’ia and his personality than the reserved and timid dragon. Z’ia, however, quit firmly believed lavender was for girls and greenriders, despite the fact that the calming function of the oil would have well suited his stressful dragon.

Popping the lid open, Z’ia dipped both hands into the liquid and scooped up a double handful, which was swiftly smeared in the centre of Aveleth’s face, right between his eyes and down the length of his nose. The dragon gave a soft rumble of amusement before purring with pleasure as Z’ia began the well-practiced routine of rubbing the oil in. “Can’t remember the last time we did a proper oiling,” Z’ia commented, half to Aveleth and half to C’vir.

He oiled the firelizards regularly enough, but they were young and still growing, and they were dramatically smaller than Aveleth. In addition, they only wriggled when he was trying to oil between their toes (Plague) or around their nose (Destiny); Chastity, with her forlorn crush on D’hys, was perfectly content to lie deathly still and remain loose enough for Z’ia to extend wings and oil her toes without the little thing wriggling. He was almost positive she was trying to show D’hys how utterly amazingly obedient she was so that he would love her. Z’ia had no idea why the little green was so obsessed with his fellow bluerider, but he found her one-sided crush utterly adorable, and D’hys’ horror at it was fucking hilarious.

Z’ia was silent for some time, fishing around internally for a subject that would be in C’vir’s range without being boring or too hot. Aveleth’s soft suggestion had Z’ia perking up and he turned to grin cheerfully at C’vir. “Any bets on how many eggs Krypth will pop out this time?” Calling the dragon a whore might not go down well, so Z’ia compensated by using her name. “She got snagged by a brown again. When are you two going to start catching shiny hides?” Eyebrows wiggled playfully as Z’ia smirked.