Post by Requiem on Mar 20, 2011 18:33:34 GMT -5
"Yes," M'ta agreed, with a small nod. Er'ani was being so quiet that he was beginning to nod off again, beneath the warmth of the blankets with his dragon at his back. The brownrider had often slept on Behruth. For turns, really. He only stopped when R'wign demanded he not act like a 'slave' and actually sleep in a bed. Which...had been awkward in the extreme then, in that awkward state of limbo where attraction was felt but not acknowledged. Especially when R'wign decided that the only way to keep M'ta there (and yes, he'd been right, damn him) was to sleep on the smaller man.
But, yes, being so near a sleeping 'Ruth had the added effect of making M'ta sleepy as well, after turns of conditioning. He blinked dazedly when Er'ani finally spoke again. What was that? "Who?" Then he remembered the conversation they'd just beeh having. Oh. Right. "Ismaroth. E'rro's dragon is Ismaroth." Behruth liked him. Behruth liked most dragons, granted, but some of the others on his wing, while liked, had made him uncomfortable. Onyth, for instance. Ciceroth at times. Ioth. Dragons far more vicious than Ruth was or could ever be.
At least...Behruth would not be forced to fight again. M'ta could be thankful for that, even at the price it came with. The brown hated violence so. And M'ta never knew what to do when Ruth became depressed because of it. It was hard not to take it personally, either. What Behruth hated so much was a part of the brownrider that he couldn't (and honestly didn't want to) shake. The brownrider had survived too long to roll over and let people walk all over him, take advantage, and kill him for his foolishness. The world Ruth wanted simply...didn't exist.
If Er'ani had any more questions for M'ta, though, he would have to save them for later or wake the small man. Sleeplessness and Behruth's momentary restfulness had taken their toll, the small rider sleeping the dreamless sleep of exhaustion. His cheek was pressed into his dragon's hide, body curled up tight as he leaned against Behruth. The brown curled a little tighter in his own sleep with a rumbling croon.
But, yes, being so near a sleeping 'Ruth had the added effect of making M'ta sleepy as well, after turns of conditioning. He blinked dazedly when Er'ani finally spoke again. What was that? "Who?" Then he remembered the conversation they'd just beeh having. Oh. Right. "Ismaroth. E'rro's dragon is Ismaroth." Behruth liked him. Behruth liked most dragons, granted, but some of the others on his wing, while liked, had made him uncomfortable. Onyth, for instance. Ciceroth at times. Ioth. Dragons far more vicious than Ruth was or could ever be.
At least...Behruth would not be forced to fight again. M'ta could be thankful for that, even at the price it came with. The brown hated violence so. And M'ta never knew what to do when Ruth became depressed because of it. It was hard not to take it personally, either. What Behruth hated so much was a part of the brownrider that he couldn't (and honestly didn't want to) shake. The brownrider had survived too long to roll over and let people walk all over him, take advantage, and kill him for his foolishness. The world Ruth wanted simply...didn't exist.
If Er'ani had any more questions for M'ta, though, he would have to save them for later or wake the small man. Sleeplessness and Behruth's momentary restfulness had taken their toll, the small rider sleeping the dreamless sleep of exhaustion. His cheek was pressed into his dragon's hide, body curled up tight as he leaned against Behruth. The brown curled a little tighter in his own sleep with a rumbling croon.