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Post by Sebz on Nov 30, 2011 18:39:27 GMT -5
R'vor was drunk. He was always drunk when there was a greenflight; being drunk meant Piwoth would not be able to chase. It was something he had developed in the years proceeding their weyrling graduation. Piwoth was rather vociferous in his sexual appetites, while R'vor was... not. The white salamandyr that was usually perched on the blue rider's had betweened as soon as the all to familiar headache set in, with no more than a squeak. Pisero would return after it had warn off. Piwoth was raging, as usual, but to R'vor, the complaints and accusations of the blue easy to shut out. He had had more than enough practice.
R'vore knew that his actions were adversely affecting the blue dragon, years of sexual frustration could not be any good for his mental health. But allowing Piwoth the chase was just not an option. Chasing led to Sex. R'vor would not have it.
Slamming his drink on the table, R'vor spat in disgust. He was a twenty seven year old man, grown through and through, and yet the idea of sex still scared him to death. The memory of the weyrling lesson that he had taught months before was still vivid in his mind. Teaching the weyrlings about flights when he himself refused to even consider participating them- he was sure he had made such a great impression. It wasn't as if the blue rider had never had the option, he had just never monopolized on his chances, nor did he want to. Sex was synonymous with death. If he had sex, surely he would die, if not outright then of embaresment. His partner would laugh at him, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't mind it if his inhibitions only affected him, but R'vor did not think he would be able to deny Piwoth much longer.
Snarling in disgust, the blue rider took and swig of his alchohol.
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Post by neeuqtar on Nov 30, 2011 20:01:01 GMT -5
Only rarely did S'vil ask Adaityth to give him lifts across the Weyrbowl. He liked the exercise, and besides, it made flying easier. Endurance and stamina were always good things, right? But not today. Today S'vil was going to be a little lazy, or rather, a little bit thoughtful to the state of his ankles. He was not all that desirous of spraining or breaking them, after all. And he was in a bit of a precarious situation. Why, you might ask?
Because S'vil had new heels!
Usually the greenrider knew better than to spend good marks on shoes that were only sort of useful for walking. But then... he'd found stiletto heels. In his size. Not only was that the strangest trade good he'd ever seen in a Weyr -- who on earth had sent them? Who on earth had bought them, and dutifully put them into storage?? -- but he absolutely could not resist how fabulous they were. And now he was trying to remember how to walk in heels. Hips forward, shoulders back, look nonchalant, sway.
S'vil had wanted to Flightmoth for the greenflight going on at the moment, but he didn't want to snap one of his new heels (Faranth forfend) or tear his nice clothing. Because adorable shoes required adorable clothes, right? Never you mind that very few people in the Weyr would find a six-foot-tall hunk of a dragonrider in four-inch heels, a corset, and a floor-length dress all that adorable, that was clearly what it was. He sauntered into the dining hall, quite assured that he was looking absolutely magnificent and that he was totally going to get laid. There was a Flight going on, after all, so there would be a tinge of lust in the air, even to riders who had gotten quite used to such things.
There weren't many people in the hall at the moment, but S'vil did notice one outrageously freckled man who appeared to be attempting to drown out the Flight with alcohol. Recognize? he asked Adaityth. She paused, thinking.
I... a... blue? I don't know...
Thank you, love, S'vil replied cheerfully. If the man had been a brown or bronzerider, Adaityth would have known the dragon instantly. Therefore, he (probably) wouldn't get punched for sauntering over and sliding into the seat next to him with a quietly sultry little "Hello."
Piwoth! the green exclaimed suddenly. Piwoth is his dragon. Blue. He is angry and it is scary. I don't know why, but he is a dark angry spot. S'vil barely kept from jumping at the sudden shout in his mind, but he did. He didn't flail, either.
"I'm Ville," the greenrider said, giving the end of his name a little purr. "I don't think we've met before."
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Post by Sebz on Dec 1, 2011 22:15:12 GMT -5
R'vor took another swig of alchohal, praying for the effects to overcome him and leave him in blissfull drunkeness, but so far, his attempts were in vain. Drinking over the years had built his tolarance, and at this point in his relativly young life, it took many many many drinks to send him over the edge from tipsy to full out wasted. But at least he could try.
R'vor blinked in confusion as the man, because he was most definitly male despite his apperal. “Hello,” he said, his voice slurring slightly. “You look like... nevermind,” the moderatly addled blue rider said, the image of the odd bronzeweyrling that seemed to love dresses danced past his eyes. His brows furrowed as his confusion increased. “Ville?” he asked, testing the name out. It sounded nice he supposed, but he had no idea who this younger man was nor what he wanted.
Sv'il of Adaityth Piwoth hissed with annoyance at his riders stupidity. R'vor had actually heard of this one before, if only in passing, but the memory was so fleeting it hadn't made an impression. R'vor smiled in appreciation; it faded slightly as Piwoth immediately continued on. You are a pathetic asshat, what is wrong with you! Or are you scared, he taunted, adding to the list of insults that R'vor had been subjected to since the green took the air.
“Yerright, we haven't, My names R'vor, and mydergon is Piwoth” R'vor said, once again, his words blending together, though not unintelligable. The bluerider gave the man a once over, nodding in appreciation. It was impossible to deny the man was good looking, and R'vor would be happy to admit it. It wasn't that strange to view another man as handsome, right? Girl's complimented each other all the time, the rider told himself.
If S'vil's intentions were still invisible to R'vor, Piwoth was aware almost at once, and intended to capatolize on them. Reaching out for Adaityth with his mind and calming his rage all the while, he greated her. Mine refuses to chase anybody, Piwoth offered in explanation to his mood. He's never chased a mate, he doesn't know how, he said slyly.
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