Quote:
O’dyn [WW] - 41 - he/him/his - Weyrlingmaster Second of Bronze Ansheth
Come. Hurry. We must go at once.
Urgency roused the man from fitful rest. As always, one hand moved upwards, fingers touching the all-too familiar scar, and the other reached for the small knife he kept on the stand by his bed… Unnecessary, of course. They were safe. Relatively speaking.
We do not have time to dwell, O’dynMine. I would offer Myrrath my undying love and attention and… she needs you.
“She does not. She’s a big girl. She can handle herself.” He spoke thickly through sleep, running a hair through jagged salt and pepper spikes. Still, he reached for his shirt and trousers, noting the pouring rain outside and the roar of males lost to lust. Who?
Khamaith’s maiden dance begins... Ansheth responded, not quite entirely present as he stared out towards the weyrbowl.
Ah. That would explain the fog. She had certainly picked a fine night for it. He grabbed his patch as he made his way towards Ansheth, pulling it over his eye as he climbed aboard.
She is probably used to seeing you without that... O’dyn said nothing as Ansheth backwinged over Myrrath’s ledge, descending gracefully despite the growing winds. The bronze crooned in delight, hunkering down beside his Lady green and nuzzling her with enthusiasm. My dearest Lady, I would not abide to see you cold as lust warms their bodies. Let my love keep you company tonight, if you would let me stay and bask in your radiance and perfection.
O’dyn grumbled as he slid from the soppy, sopping beast, and all but glided into the weyr. “Ada?” He called out, skin prickling as his senses grew more aware of the heat and lust surging through Western. They had… well, friends was perhaps not the right term. Investment in each other? His heart lurched slightly as he thought of the unfolding situation with their… families… becoming more complicated.
Such… calling… was… well, he was a dragonman of honour, and principles… and…
Shards. He was really here, wasn’t he? Calling on a lady whose mere presence was as painful a reminder as the scar on his face. And yet- he cared.
“Would you like some company?”
Mr Cheri
Happy to fade to black at some point during your post if that's where Ada takes you! =]
