Post by diogenessbeast on Mar 24, 2013 14:09:12 GMT -5
It was one of those days where Se'fio had nothing to do right away-- some duties around the afternoon, but nothing more. Stavroth loved those days the best, because it meant he could spend the morning lounging about and sunning himself. He could feel his rider's mind waking up now, wandering about their weyr in a drowsy daze as was common to him: eventually he'd find his way down to the bowl, where Stavroth had set himself up several hours previous, with a jar of Stavroth's favorite scented oil. That would be lovely, and the dragon could barely wait. Of course, Se'fio had to take care of his own primping first: the man had clothing he had to choose, and scents to apply to his own skin. Stavroth could understand that. It was important for both dragon and rider to look and smell fine.
And in the meantime, it did him no harm to sun. He'd chosen a nice spot tht was out of the way enough not to cause trouble, but certainly in view of many. He was stretched out to extreme, his wings luxuriously partially unfurled and resting on the ground to catch the warm rays of the sun. His excuse was that he wished to soak up maximum of Rukbat's rays, but really, it was just as much about showing off this beautiful striking coloration as it was about sunning. Perhaps more.
He could feel the eyes of Tjornirth on him from above, and that faintly disapproving buzz from the dragon whose weyr his was so unfortunately close to-- how upsetting, that their riders were so emotionally connected. Why did the fellow male have to be such a buzzkill? Mostly for Tjolnirth's anti-benefit, he gave a great yawn, stretched himself out, and flopped his head in the other direction, the picture of draconic relaxation. It was a pity dragon-faces couldn't form smirks.
And in the meantime, it did him no harm to sun. He'd chosen a nice spot tht was out of the way enough not to cause trouble, but certainly in view of many. He was stretched out to extreme, his wings luxuriously partially unfurled and resting on the ground to catch the warm rays of the sun. His excuse was that he wished to soak up maximum of Rukbat's rays, but really, it was just as much about showing off this beautiful striking coloration as it was about sunning. Perhaps more.
He could feel the eyes of Tjornirth on him from above, and that faintly disapproving buzz from the dragon whose weyr his was so unfortunately close to-- how upsetting, that their riders were so emotionally connected. Why did the fellow male have to be such a buzzkill? Mostly for Tjolnirth's anti-benefit, he gave a great yawn, stretched himself out, and flopped his head in the other direction, the picture of draconic relaxation. It was a pity dragon-faces couldn't form smirks.