Nightmares of Harpies [Z'ia, Invite]

A'liran hated this dream. He tossed and wrenched in his sleep, lithe body tense with fear and cold with sweat. In his dream, he wound precariously through the dense jungle while some unseen monster followed at his heels, nipping and clawing at him, longing to pull him into it's maw. He clawed back at it, tearing at his bedsheets and gnashing his teeth while he jerked and hissed instinctively in response to it's hellish cries.

Beside him, Bastard let out an alarmed croon, prodding delicately but urgently with his snout. Even Lump was alarmed, curled at the foot of the bed with uncertain red eyes.

It didn't help that they could hear the cries, too. They came not from Ali's mind, but rather from the green dragon located on the roof. Astoreth screeched, her own eyes boiling with unprovoked fury at the neighboring green, who didn't know what to do other than stare. The other green hadn't done anything to Astoreth, but that didn't stop her from spewing her fury at the poor girl.

Bastard screeched. He'd had enough! He pounced on Ali, desperately tugging at the man's hair. Lump let out an alarmed squawk of his own and fluttered uselessly around the room. He normally liked Astoreth, but what on Pern was so wrong with her?

Bastard's tugging did the trick. Ali woke with a start, screaming, his voice drowned out by his dragon's bellows. He cursed and cast a hateful glare to the ceiling. He knew that feeling...that hateful, needful anger. He knew it very well.

"No! Astoreth, shut up!" he screamed as he lept from bed. "Stop it right now!"

She was going to draw attention! Shards, he should have expected it though...she was already a sevenday overdue. He snarled and started to pace, projecting his scattered will towards hers, trying to force her to submit. He envied those who had better control of their dragons, he really did. She was impossible when she got like this, especially when she was late.

She got her STINK all over out hut! Astoreth hissed. I'm punishing her!

You're acting like a fool! Stop it, stop it now! he snapped. He collapsed on his bed and put his head in his hands. Please, Ast...Not now...Not now...

Z’ia’s dark green eyes flickered open, staring up at the ceiling with a frown as three firelizards swirled around, squeaking and chittering, their wings brushing past one another and over Z’ia so the warm Katilan air was cooled, whispering over his face and ruffling his damp hair. The nights were still uncomfortably warm, but Z’ia hadn’t been in bed that long at any rate; his hair still damp from the bath he’d taken before meandering back to his hut. His right hand rose to rub at his temples, and Z’ia was struggling to make his brain work enough to scold the girls into settling down and going to sleep when he heard Aveleth stir outside his bedroom window. Then the tiny dragonrider was just about scraping himself off the ceiling when a green screeched not some few huts away, the bluerider’s eyes massive in his face.

“Fucking greens!” Didn’t the stupid bitches have an ounce of sense? There were enough of the bastard things throughout the weyr that Z’ia was almost sure there should have been at least two braincells to rub together – somewhere. Then again, it wasn’t like green was actually a smart colour – Z’ia ignored Plague’s indignant squeak – as he sat up slowly and rubbed his face once over. Aveleth wasn’t the type to chase at any rate, and Z’ia was hardly in the mood, but he was awake now – rather unhappily – and he grumbled under his breath as he stumbled across the bedroom and out the door. A jaw cracking yawn was given as Z’ia leaned lazily against the kitchen bench, drinking a glass of lukewarm water from the jug.

Who is it? As he slowly woke, Z’ia could feel his blue’s uncertain interest, and he leaned over slightly to peer out the small kitchen window with an interested expression;  he knew it wasn’t Rilaleeyth since the green had flown two months prior, and wasn’t due for another two. Z’ia shifted again, putting the jug back on the bench and meandering his way to the front door so he could open it, leaning out to peer at Aveleth as the dragon hesitated for more than a little while. Kiddo?

Astoreth, he finally answered, and Z’ia refrained with great difficulty from rolling his eyes at the lingering vein of guilt Aveleth felt when Z’ia had thought of Rilaleeyth. He couldn’t understand Aveleth’s hang-up over the elder dragon, especially when he was allowed to win so few of her flights, and not from a lack of encouragement from Z’ia; he could think of several people he would prefer to bed before falling in with J’ver, but Aveleth and Rilaleeyth made an endearing pair, and Z’ia found he tended to come out of those flights feeling far more relaxed than the flights with people such as A’liran – not that he was ever against those flights.

Aveleth hesitated again. Are you going to chase her? Z’ia prodded, hearing the green shriek again and he turned his gaze to stare in the direction of A’liran’s hut, rolling his eyes at the dramatics of green dragons. They seriously had no class at all, and he could only imagine what someone like A’liran was up to at the moment; he’d probably encouraged her late night flight by dreaming things he didn’t have the courage to seek out. Aveleth snorted softly under his breath, and Z’ia shrugged innocently with a lopsided smile. Well?

Swirling eyes were turned on him, and Z’ia waited patiently to see what Aveleth would say before moving. The dragon knew Z’ia enjoyed the flights he took part in with Astoreth’s rider, but Z’ia was also aware that Aveleth was sometimes (most always) made uncomfortable by the human-end results of their flights, and having the sharp-tongued whore of a green attack his sweet blue did nothing to calm Z’ia. The little bluerider arched his eyebrows at his dragon, who finally gave a physical nod. Yes. Crouching slightly, he offered Z’ia an eased ability to mount up, before taking off on a short glide to A’liran’s hut.

Aveleth didn’t speak as he allowed Z’ia to slide off him, and land lightly on the ground before trotting (almost skipping) gleefully to A’liran’s door. A low croon was given to Astoreth, eyes swirling a gentle mixture of lust and affection as he settled himself placidly nearby, prepared to take to the skies the moment she did, but unwilling to wind himself up too much before such energies were needed; she was still having fun screeching and he’d let her get that out of her system so hopefully she’d aim less of it at him post-flight. His wings rustled together as he settled himself, and his head titled to one side as he watched her, before turning to glance at the other green, with a look of mild confusion and a hint of amusement. He was barely a flickering glance, and his attention was back on her.

Z’ia didn’t bother to knock as he skipped up to the door, dark curls bouncing around his excited face. Instead, he let himself in quietly and danced across the main room, pausing at the door to peer in with a brilliant grin, green eyes sparkling with anticipation of all the delightful upcoming opportunities. “Hello, precious! What timing your sweet greenie has,” Z’ia’s voice was low and singsongy, filled with quiet, malicious delight as he came around the edge of the door, and stood in the opening like a predator about to pounce his cornered prey. “Shall we get this show on the road?” white teeth flashed in the darkness as he smirked.

Z'ia's voice sent A'liran's blood running cold. The greenrider bolted up in bed and cast a vicious glare at the door, where he could only see the 'looming' shadow of his nemesis lurking just beyond reach. "...Sorry, Z'ia..." he growled, his fingers curling in the bedsheets and grasping them so tightly his knuckled turned white. His voice, heavy with dread and anger, remained tight and even. He was worried  that if he ventured beyond a whisper, he would start to scream. "I almost didn't see you there."

A'liran slowly rose to his feet. He slept without clothing, making his already precarious situation a bit more so, though modesty was already out the window when flights were concerned. He could feel his muscles twitching and his blood tingling with anger and toxic effects of dragonflight. "Z'ia..you get the fuck out of my room right now...Your sorry ass isn't welcome here, you wher-faced..." The rest of his insult was lost in a guttural growl as he took a threatening step forward, fist curled, ready to take aim and knock the idiot bluerider's head from his shoulders. Lump let out a feeble cry in the darkness, but Bastard's insistant squeaking convinced the smaller bronze to flee. This was no place for them, not right now!

Outside, Astoreth turned her harsh eyes on Aveleth. Ah, there he was! What a lovely blue! His cool, soothing presence doused her fire just a bit, her furious snarling subsiding into a smooth and pleasant rumble. Aveleth...I was starting to wonder if you'd forgotten all about me she purred, slithering over to him with head low and eyes soft. They whirled intently. Oh, yes! This would do just fine!

She lifted off, but it was merely a formality. She didn't even call out her desire for others to hear, she merely whirled above him, playful and eager.

Down below, her compliant selection filled Ali with even more rage. "You bitch!" he screamed as he threw himself at Z'ia.

"That's quite alright!" Z'ia chirpped happily in response to A'liran, not at all unaware that the greenrider's comment was most likely meant to be an insult. "I'm quite short!" He grinned impishly, green eyes sparklng in the sparse bedroom lighting. Oh, he was so going to enjoy this flight! He could feel the quiet confidence coming from Aveleth, and knew that it was  not a flight his blue would let get away from him. Oftimes, Aveleth would chase some greens simply because he felt obligated to do so, though his lust was almost always lacking  - a show, to make the girls feel special - but this time, Z'ia could feel the tingling of dragon born lust making its way through his blood, and it thrilled him.

"Only if I can take you with me, Ali." Z'ia's grin turned feral as A'liran advanced towards him, the tiny bluerider shifting his weight casually and without any real thought onto the balls of his feet, preparing for the attack that was coming - an event given away both by the expression on A'liran's face, and, of course, a handful of years at winning the spunky man's green in flight. Z'ia gave a soft whoop of laughter when A'liran lived up to expectations and suddenly leapt at him.

Never, my lady, the young blue crooned, risking setting the emotional green off by extending his nose to her own, and watching her gracefully leave the solid Pernese soil with the same placid gaze he was ever home to - when not overwhelmed by the world at large. He sat for a few moments, allowing her the time to twirl above him and show off playfully before rumbling softly. She would be his, this night! Aveleth's eyes shone with the unusual spark of confidence, so rarely seen upon him in any way or manner, and he lifted lightly from the ground himself. The heady satisfaction he felt radiating from Z'ia only fuelled the timid dragon's fire, and he rose elegantly into the air, waiting just long enough for Astoreth to lead the dance before following her placidly. There was no need to get obnoxious or impatient; she was a beautiful green who always lead an exciting chase.

Z'ia's laughter was still hanging in the air as he dodged just enough to avoid the brunt of A'liran's attack, without opening up the doorway for the other man to escape. Hands extended, brushing over the greenrider's hot skin in light, gentle touches that were designed to mislead. "My, we are eager tonight!" Z'ia gushed softly, stepping back into the way of the door as he carefully fought for control of A'liran's wrists, fingers a little rougher as he focused more on the intent of being in control than keeping up the gentle play. Only should he manage to grasp the wrists, would he return to the gentleness, green eyes eager.

"How does this flight strike you," Z'ia purred, keeping careful tabs on A'liran's feet and knees, very wary of attacks on his groin. "The bed? The floor? Or perhaps up against the wall?" He was being so generous! Z'ia smiled, the expression perhaps softer and more playful in that moment than malicious or evil, as Aveleth's gentler lust crept in more strongly.

Only if I can take you with me, Ali. The line would have been romantic, had it come from anyone else. By this point in his life, however, A'liran was so used to the false words of would-be heroes and protectors that he was jaded to their sweetness.

Outraged, he flew towards Z'ia with all the recklessness and ferocity of a feline, fueled by his dragon's lust and his deep, frothing ire for the bluerider who'd come to taunt him. He snarled in indignant fury as he felt Z'ia's thin hands grasp his own wrists. Z'ia's form danced around him, feet skittering just out of reach as Ali attempted to smash them with his heels. He flung curses at the smaller man and bore his teeth, resorting even to spitting at the villain's smirking face.

"I hate you! I hate you! I'm going to fucking kill you!" he bellowed. His vision and senses blurred as he tried to wrench himself free of the bluerider, eager to feel his hands close around the fool's neck. It would feel so good to watch the bluerider thrash, to make him suffer as A'liran had under so many of Z'ia's kind in the past!

As always, Astoreth had a way of ruining things. A'liran's body seized as he felt the green's rage suddenly quenched. She'd been caught? Already?! Traiterous bitch! The greenrider called out a curse as he fell twitching to the floor, so startled by her sudden rapture that he lost his footing and slid to the floor. "Astoreth! Astoreth!" he cried out pitifully, clawing at the floor as he tried to escape from the man he'd only moments before considered prey. He was so blind in his confusion and the darkness that he wasn't even sure what direction he was crawling in.

"The floor it is," Z'ia purred gently, his voice whispery soft and filled with his own delight as he felt Aveleth twine with Astoreth, the blue uniquely confident and proud in his capture of the energetic dragon, never smug - for Aveleth simply wasn't that type of dragon - but so proud and pleased; his nose nuzzling along her neck as he used his strenght and wingspan to guide them into a low angled fall, reaping as much time for them as possible.

A'liran was, as ever, a vicious partner in flight, and Z'ia had never come out of one of their actual flights the winner. Aveleth was too sweet, gentle and kind and his lust - those rare times he actually won - always over powered Z'ia and turned him into a likeness of the dragon's magestic mannerisms; he was soft, he was gentle, and he got the shit beat out of him as a result - especially from those such as A'liran. Z'ia, as a result, was not surprised when consiousness crept back quickly (Aveleth was ever quick to release him) and found himself covered in a world of aches and sharp little pains. Bites, scratches, bruises from hits and kicks. He was just glad A'liran never managed to hit him where he might retain longer term damage!

Consiousness was a time for payback, and Z'ia's lips twisted into a cruel sneer as he positioned himself carefully atop the woozy A'liran, using the few precious moments he had before the man turned back into a spitball to make sure he had the upper hand in every way. Wrists were gripped tightly, and pressed firmly across A'liran's chest, crossed over tight enough to both ache and bruise, Z'ia's short armspan not enough to hold them above A'liran's head, he compromised slightly.

Leaning forward, Z'ia trailed neat little kisses down the side of A'liran's face, dark green eyes watching him carefully as eyelashes fluttered. "Time to wake up, Ali," he crooned gently, making his way to the greenrider's lips. He kissed him softly, watching the other dragonrider, waiting, waiting - when he got the response he wanted, Z'ia's lips twisted into a vicious smirk against A'liran's, and he bit down sharply enough to draw blood; his head withdrew swiftly to avoid a broken nose.

"Good morning, precious," he purred, licking his lips.

OOC; power play with permission

Ali was dizzy. His eyelashes fluttered and he let out a low grunt, head pounding and vision spotted. "What..?" he muttered.  He could feel his body aching, especially his knees and his wrists. What on Pern had happened to him? It only took him a few minutes to realize that he was awash in the afterglow of his dragon, and that was perhaps the only thing keeping him well behaved in the moments that followed. Z'ia.

The greenrider narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Z'ia...get your skanky ass away from me.." he hissed up at the bluerider perching on top of him. A'liran wriggled a bit, testing just how tightly he was bound. As usual, Z'ia had made sure he had the upper hand before exposing his smug face to any danger. Ali was pinned, and while he liked to think he could buck the bastard off if he really needed to, he wasn't sure he had the energy.

"Get away from me," he said miserably. Outside, Astoreth was enjoying herself, basking lazily next to her miserable little flight partner. Stupid slut..how come she got to have fun while he was left to rot? A'liran snorted incredulously and started to launch a new verbal attack when he suddenly felt the bluerider's teeth biting into him.

The greenrider's body jerked and twisted in pain. He screamed, flailing madly at his attacker and fumbling across the floor. He clawed his way into bed and let out a scream of anger and frustration, clutching his wounded lip and spitting blood. "You fucking maniac! What is wrong with you?!"

His hand flew instinctively to a bowl next to his bed. Moments later, it was on it's way across the room.

Z'ia grinned, the expression almost innocent in the rather simple joy he was obviously relishing. In flight lust, Z'ia was a long way from ferocious; it was hard to be, when bonded to someone so simply sweet as Aveleth, who would never dream of hurting his partner, let alone actually do so! That left Z'ia to bare the brunt of some of the more fiesty greenriders he occassionally found himself tangling with. Though to be fair, there were only two; A'liran, who clearly enjoyed the follow up sex, since he practically asked for it by bashing the fuck out of Z'ia when he was being all sweet and cuddy and lusty, and J'ver, who, being bonded to just as sweet a dragon, tended to not leave any marks whatsoever upon Z'ia just as he left none on J'ver. It did wonders for upkeeping Z'ia's reputation of being sweet and innocent and adorable.

And made flighs with A'liran so much fun. "You make it so easy, though!" Z'ia giggled, collecting himself after he was thrown off unexpectedly and halfway across the room. Z'ia usually had a better grip, and he flexed his fingers as he bounced to the balls of his feet, managing to doge the bowl in the process and tilted his head at the greenrider. "That wasn't very nice," a pout claimed Z'ia's lips and he sulked at A'liran for a few moments, letting the greenrider hiss and snarl and throw things at him, battering at those that came too close and ignoring those that flew way over the top of his head.

"You really shouldn't be so mean, you know." Z'ia's voice dipped into sweet and sugary tones, and he leaned back against the closed door, smiling sweetly as he blocked the most obvious of the exits. While there were windows he was sure A'liran would be able to squeeze himself through, Z'ia wasn't overly worried about such an event happening. On the one hand, he had learned long ago that A'liran enjoyed their post flight adventures. Oh, he cried foul, and he put up a scene and he wailed his woes, but if he really, truly wasn't in on it. Well, there was a window there, and Z'ia had never seen the man try to escape through it, just as he never honestly tried to get out the door.

Z'ia grinned, his voice daring A'liran to ignore him. "Come here, goldilocks."

Goldilocks? Seriously? A'liran sneered, filled with contempt at the teasing comment. Goldilocks, really? Wasn't it bad enough for the filthy bluerider to insult him constantly and look down his nose without adding terrible nicknames on top of that?

Ali started to have a go at Z'ia, but he caught himself abruptly. Wasn't that was the bastard wanted, for Ali to come to him? And to think, that stupid little nickname had almost been enough to provoke him into doing just that! "Clever, you ugly son of a cunt," A'liran hissed, "but not good enough. Fuck you, and get out of my room...This is my hut, and the flight's over, so piss off!"

What a flight indeed. Ali was sore, but he had no doubt that Z'ia was far sorer. Ali always laid into his flight partners with fury and preemptive violence. He made hem pay for every inch of his body that they claimed, and even still it didn't make up for the humiliation and the hatred. He hated his flight winners...most of them, though not quite all. He hated most of them, but Z'ia was at the top of his list.

"Stay away from me..." Ali snarled, but he couldn't bring himself to get up. He was frozen in place. Scared? Perhaps a little, but he tried to cover it with indignation.

Z'ia's amusement was thick on the air as he watched A'liran react to his taunt, the bluerider's eyes sparkling with delight as A'liran barely caught himself before throwing a bodily attack at the tiny bluerider. Teeth shone in a sudden grin as Z'ia laughed, the sound light and musical; anyone who might have heard it from the outside would think the littel bluerider was responding to a joke, a tickle, not that his features were home to an animalistic and predatory expression as he licked his lips at the end of the sound. "Come now, that's not very nice."

The tiny bluerider lifted a hand, fingers dancing lightly over a set of scratch marks drawn on his cheek. Flights with A'liran were dangerous, even when Astoreth was in the best of moods. Aveleth was rarely hurt by the green, which was more than some of her other suitors could say, but Z'ia had yet to come out of an encounter without some visible marring or mark on his person, especially the face. Not that he minded! The last time he'd come out with a black eye, he'd been cooed over by a couple of others while A'liran, whom he had been careful to attack the ribs of, had been given dirty glares by a couple of Z'ia's friends. It was amazing, and the hate filled look Z'ia was the recipient of was even better. He loved the games he played with A'liran, and the way the other man's atittude and reputation did nothing to help him.

"I haven't come near you!" Z'ia spluttered, changing game plans without second thought, his voice indignant and unhappy as he leaned back against the door. He threw a vicious smirk at A'liran, dark green eyes filled with malicious intent. "I can't go anywhere until you let me get my clothes! Not all of us are completely immodest!" Z'ia's tone was huffy, clearly indignat at the idea of running around the Weyr naked, and his gaze flickered around quickly to see where his clothing was splattered. Enough of it was close enough to A'liran to back up his whining if someone decided to investigate. The nasty array of blooming bruises and bloody marks on Z'ia's body from A'liran's nails and teeth would  do nothing but make him look like the victim, too. Throwing the greenrider a last smug look, Z'ia then controted his features into a look of grumpy poutiness. "Pants, please!" and he pointed at the item by the other man's feet.

"Fuck you and fuck your pants, you asshole..." A'liran spit instinctively. His options now were to either obey Z'ia's wishes and take the path of least resistance, possibly leading to a safe and logical conclusion...or he could overreact and do something stupid.

In a fit of passion, Ali snatched the pants from the floor. Before he even realized what he'd done, they were out the window. Ali sat there on his knees for a few long moments, so focused on the massive mistake he'd just made that he didn't even think to ask himself why his window was open to begin with. He assumed it had to do with the horrible weather, or maybe he'd pulled it down to yell at Ast, or something like that.

The greenrider frowned fiercely and glared back at Z'ia. "Well, go on then, bitch! Go get them and get the fuck out of my house and out of my life!" he growled, hands shaking with rage as he awkwardly tried to pull himself to his feet, bravado overcoming logic as his mind raced. He hurled a barrage of insults at his dragon for daring to lnd him in thie terrible situation before defiantly flopping on the edge of his bed, eyeing the bluerider stubbornly. Z'i would have to go outside for his pants, and that meant either going out the door (which Ali could lock behind hmi) or going through Ali himself.

Ali was hoping for the former, but expecting the latter. If that bluerider dared to come closer, Ali had every intention of adding to that nice little bruise collection. His heart fluttered as he continued to stare his flightwinner down.

"What?" Z'ia asked, sounding wonderfully confused, though his face was a twist of 'what the fuck' and amusement, frowning at A'liran in surprise. "Fuck my pants? No, I just want to -- hey!" Z'ia yelped as A'liran threw them out the window, the little bluerider blinking before scowling irritibly at A'liran. "That wasn't very nice!" It wasn't, really, and Z'ia frowned unhappily as he continued to stare at A'liran as the greenrider flopped over on the bed. He was incredibly tempted to switch tactics again, and pound the little bitch into mash, but he could hear the odd passer by, and he'd spotted a confused face pass the building when his pants went flying out the window. No one was approaching, but A'liran could be far too loud and Z'ia was enjoying his current  tactic. He'd be able to woe all day in the dining hall about the terribly mean greenrider that beat him up, and threw his pants out the window!

Z'ia's eyes flashed maliciously, but he didn't let his pouting, worried expression alter. He couldn't risk someone looking in, and seeing anything he didn't want seen! "I'm not going out there naked!" Z'ia exclaimed, his voice going up a couple of octave as if shocked to his core by such a suggestion. While the bluerider honestly had no real modesty, he had also made a deal out of being modest for the most part; no one would be surprised to see him scramble out but naked from a flight, but nor would any of the rankers be impressed. Besides, he was working on winning over a goldrider or six, and he couldn't afford to upset their delicate opinions of him!

"I'll borrow yours!" Z'ia's voice was cheerful and full of squeal as he apparently came up with this brilliant idea, the little bluerider rocking forward onto the balls of his feet in delight. His eyes flashed as he sent a warning look at A'liran, daring him to make a fuss as Z'ia himself bounced over to the greenrider's stash of clothing and began rooting around for something, coming up a moment later with what was clearly one of A'liran's better sets of pants. "These will do!" They were also clearly far too long in the leg for Z'ia. The tiny bluerider struggled into them anyway, tying them and flashed A'liran a superior smirk before setting about rolling up the legs. He kept enough of his attention on the other man tobe sure  he could escape harm if he was attacked, but not so much as to look like he was anticipating trouble.

Oh, that foul, sick motherfucker.

Ali sneered, watching with utter outrage as Z'ia started rooting through his belongings. How dare he? Did he think he was clever? Some part of Ali realized that he probably should have expected as much, considering how he hadn't exactly thought out his own plan of action, but that didn't mean he couldn't be indignant. He cursed his own stupidity and ground his teeth a bit, irritably watching as Z'ia selected a pair of his pants and pulled them on.

"You look ridiculous," Ali warned Z'ia, his tone bristling with frustration. He didn't care much for the clothing itself, just the fact that his privacy was being so blatantly violated. Naturally, he expected Z;ia would just bounce off and play innocent, just like he always did. Ali was loathe to think of what would happen to his own reputation now; the supposedly adorable bluerider covered in bruises and deprived of his own clothing, while Ali was sitting grumpy in his own hut, having chased his winner off like the contemptuous wherry that everyone thought he was?

It was infuriating. If only those blind idiots were willing to see the truth! But they never would, now would they? Not as long as they were seeing a mere greenrider. The man's blood boiled at the thought. He focused his sight on Z'ia, hateful expression hardening more by the second. Z'ia...people like him were to blame for so much of the pain in the world, and just like always, he would get off easy.

Astoreth stirred from her restful state, alarmed by the sudden flood of anger pouring from her rider. She opened her eyes and began to hiss softly, her otherwise delicate body winding into tight coils as she reached out to him. Don't do anything foolish she urged him softly, though her own tone wasn't lacking in ferocity. She kept it at a low mental whisper, as if fearing that she, too, might erupt into anger if she dared to speak freely. Their rage had always been shared. They joined in their frustration and spiteful jealousy, their resentment at their low status and the uncaring nature of the world around them. When one became inconsolable, it was difficult for the other to resist. Her request wasn't just for Ali's sake, but for both of them. As much as they shared their battled, they also shared the consequences.

Ali huffed angrily and jumped to his feet. "Get out, now! I don't want you here!" he growled. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Well, you threw mine out the window!” Z’ia’s voice was a magnificent combination of woeful dismay, and childish whine as he stared at A’liran indignantly. “I can’t run around naked!” Well, he could, but he wasn’t going to! The fact that A’liran would know that, and that he’d know Z’ia was stealing his clothes just to fuck with him was probably the best part of the entire situation – especially since A’liran had so clearly brought about the scenario himself by tossing Z’ia’s nice pants out the window like they were guilty of stinking or something. Z’ia took meticulous care of his clothing and they were going to be dirty now, and crinkled and probably stained by A’liran’s nasty fingers. It took a lot of self control (and the shadow of someone passing by) for Z’ia not to snap and smash a fist into A’liran’s face for practically ruining his clothing as he lingered too long on that thought.

Besides; It was better not to let A’liran know Z’ia treasured his clothing as much as R’nd. The last thing he needed was the green whore going out of his way to actively ruin Z’ia’s clothing! It was much too precious, the situations at Katila completely forgone!

“I think I look quite fetching, actually,” Z’ia purred sweetly instead, fluttering his lashes as he posed in a playful and seductive manner, flashing a bright grin at A’liran like he was an appreciative audience and not actually interested in slaughtering the tiny bluerider. Astoreth stirs, the blue dragon’s quiet tone whispered into the edges of Z’ia’s mind and the bluerider paused for a second, just before A’liran was suddenly on his feet and Z’ia’s position took up a more ready stance, clearly expecting trouble and wanting to be ready to defend himself.

Stupid slut needs to learn to control his whore dragon, Z’ia snorted, ignoring Aveleth’s disdain at Astoreth being so harshly judged as the young blue uncurled from where he’d been curled up peacefully, and watched Astoreth warily. She’d been known to attack him as her rider attacked his own, and Aveleth was never sure if he were friend or enemy to the green, or how long he would be one or the other. She switched between sides as easily as she chopped and changed emotions.

“Then you really shouldn’t have thrown my pants out the window!” Z’ia responded, his voice entirely exasperated as he stared at A’liran in blatant puzzlement. “Where is my shirt? I’m not running around half naked, either!” Really, this route was far too much fun, and it was taking a lot of Z’ia’s natural talent not to crack up laughing at the way A’liran was reacting.

"Yeah...out the window, where you belong, you filthy animal!" Ali snarled miserably. He bucked up a bit as Z'ia assumed his defensive stance. For a few seconds, Ali was more than willing to fight, but a harsh warning from Astoreth reminded him what the cost may be. Hhis pride was damaged enoguh already, but what of his body? Frustrated, the greenrider hissed before backing down. He flopped on his bed, bunching the covers irritably around his waist and eyeing Z'ia with contempt.

"Your shirt is under the bed. I knocked it there when I woke up. Just get it and get out..." Ali said, his tone stiff as stiff as his wary body. He considered shooting to his feet again, loathe to show weakness from the bluerider who always so ardently exploited it. Ali hated to feel vulnerable, and there were few who made him feel more vulnerable than a belligerent flight winner. He handily ignored Astoreth's lazy complaint that Ali was generally the belligerent one; Ali was the instigator, always defensive and always vicious. Ast pitied him for feeling like it was a necessary form of self-defense, but at times like this, even she believed that it would be better to simply let it pass.

You make it fun for him. You give him reactions. the dragon said with disdain. She eyed Aveleth. Shards, it was hard not to take her frustration out on him! Aveleth was sweet. In a way, it reminded her of the situation with their riders; one of them need only push the smallest bit and the other would make himself a target. The comparison damn near made her sick, though. She hissed miserably and tucked her head under one wing, curling into a green ball as she tried to sort out her feelings.

Flying with Aveleth didn't seem wrong, but Ali hated it so much! Was the problem him, or the bluepair?

The problem is you, cunt. Fly with D'hys' blue next time Ali grumbled.

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.