The Teasing, The Way She Said "hunter," It Told Him Enough About What She Thought Of The Keeper Of The

The teasing, the way she said "hunter," it told him enough about what she thought of the Keeper of the Moon hunters. He was well aware of the less than ideal behavior other Keepers had displayed in the Black Shroud, hunting as they pleased, where they pleased, and upsetting the balance of nature, even with the many, many warnings the Gridanian Wood Wailers and Twin Adders had given. He wasn't with that group, in fact despised them, hating how hard they had made it for a legitimate hunter and archer to survive and thrive in Gridania. He still remembered the stares, the mutters, the cold shoulders given to the smiling archer, convinced he would find and make friends, lasting connections, and friendly faces. Instead, he would have left, starved out of the country if the inn keeper on New Gridania hadn't offered a kind word, a place to stay, and a connection with the Twin Adders.

Meeting those pools of starlit-blue with ones of twinkling sky-blue, doing his best to not show the slight sting her words had on reminding him of the struggle he had faced, he could only placate softly. "No challenge, promise. I know you're more than capable, otherwise you wouldn't be out here."

He wasn't sure why he was a little disappointed to hear she was done, glancing at the log in question and noting that, yes, there were a few mushrooms, their spore filled heads poking up from the hollow log. As she shifted her weight to one leg, he did much the same, left hand on his hip as he leaned into his left leg, his tail swaying behind him as he mulled over her words, nodding to her bandaged arms as he spoke. "Unfortunately blood will draw attention, wanted or otherwise," adding after a moment, "I should have brought some bloodied meat with me. Would have helped draw out the blue-back. Instead, I have you to thank for drawing him out."

Already, he was moving, ready to offer her good luck on her journey back, when she continued and offered her assistance, his steps pausing as the feather floated back towards the front and waved slightly, his eyes lighting up as he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that's right! A few Twin Adder recruits were injured while fleeing from it. Thankfully not life threatening, but without a skilled healer, some might have to leave the company. I can take you to the triage center in New Gridania if you have the time!"

He had turned fully towards her, eyes still alight, even taking a step forward so he was closer, his obvious excitement at bringing her back to help the others bleeding into the energy of his tail, the lion-like appendage flicking back and forth as his ears wiggled slightly, poking out from the holes he had cut in his archer's hat, awaiting her response.

The way he complimented her name was more than just acknowledgement. She would never get tired of hearing it. After all, it was a name she gave herself. The gift of having a name, and it's continued validation from others provided her with a rejuvenated sense of freedom. Cyra had been stunned by hearing it, despite having heard it spoken by many others over the last few years. It still felt so fresh on her mind. As fresh as some scars still felt on her skin. She couldn't help but blush when he said it.

Her starlit-blue eyes followed behind Kaleh'a as he crouched beside his quarry. It was her hope that he had been distracted by his work that he wouldn't have caught the brief flush in her cheeks. If Bryn had seen her now, he would have laughed at the way she still got awestruck with hearing a stranger roll her identifier off their tongue.

"That sounds like a challenge, hunter." Cyra couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his comment. "White Mages are skilled in more than just healing." She teased.

The Miqo'te watched with interest at the man absolutely brutalized the tail end of the beast. Absolutely skilled with a blade, but not with the handling of his prize. She rested her free hand on the opposite bandaged arm, shifting her weight onto one leg while her tail flicked out briefly to the side. The struggle of the feather sneaking into this field of view had her stifling a laugh by holding a hand to her lips.

"I am mostly finished foraging. I had just the mushrooms in the log left to add to my harvest before I was set to head back. I guess the pricks on my arms attracted the beast. Otherwise, I've experienced no such trouble, even this deep within the Shroud." She patted the satchel at her side.

"You mentioned that this creature has injured others? Perhaps I can be of assistance." She offered. It wouldn't do well for her to reveal her skill as a healer and not extend her services to those in need. If the Ziz had attacked recently, then her presence would absolutely be paramount to their survival.

The excitement of starting up a story is infectious. I'm looking for more to read, and more to start!

"You always remember your first kill."

Kaleh'a had heard that statement a hundred times, and felt like he would hear it another hundred before he ever got the chance to experience what it meant. It was something of a mantra from his mother, the white haired Miqo'te past her prime, but more the wiser for it, and guiding her son's hand in archery had proven easy enough. Even if that same son had still not felled a beast, an alert deer, or a darting rabbit. It was his greatest failure as a hunter, so far, and one that he went out every evening to try and rectify.

That day was no different.

Above him, Menphina winked down between wisps of clouds, the sky painted a vibrant hue of orange and purple as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the last rays of warmth kissing the tip of the tree he sat crouched in. Shifting on his feet, his leather boots scraped softly against the bark, the only sound he made besides soft breaths, his bow unslung and strung, the firm wood resting against the tops of his boots as his blue eyes scanned the forest floor below. He had picked his location carefully, tracking coming naturally to the cat boy, his blonde ears flicking one way and then the next as the forest came alive. It was his goal to blend into that liveliness, to just be a part of his, to not stand out in his soft, laced, long sleeve brown shirt, to be just high enough to avoid detection by scent, and yet low enough that he wouldn't split his wool pants when he dropped down to finish his prey. His long tail flicked at the thought, carefully wrapped around his ankles, so it wouldn't hang down and alert an animal with its unconscious movements. He wanted that kill, needed it at this point, already eighteen and considered an adult, but truthfully, he didn't mind one more night of going kill-less.

He loved these nights. The calmness. The watching. The waiting. He just didn't love the strain of staying in one position for so long. His right hand left his bow string, brushing away his bangs from his eyes, their white tips--his mother's prideful voice rising in his head, "Moon kissed"--a little more evident in the moonlight starting to filter down, and he shifted again on his perch. On his back, his quiver shifted, he fur lined inside keeping the noise of his arrows to a minimum, the two gripped in his right hand parallel with the bow's curve more likely to make a sound than those resting peacefully in their home. That was all he should need anyways. Two quick draws, two quick fires, one dead meal. Then it would all be handy work, a knife, skinning and claiming his trophy, that coveted first kill.

If anything shows up, he thought dully, letting out a soft sigh, blue orbs lazily gliding along the forest floor. There was nothing there, not even a curious mouse to brush a leaf and catch his attention. It was so...quiet.

Both of his ears shot up, at attention, as his eyes stopped seeing, and instead, he focused on his hearing. When had the crickets stopped singing? The nightingales stopped warbling? When had everything around him grown so unnaturally still, like the entire forest was waiting for something...something Kaleh'a knew nothing about. He sat there, for a long, slow minute, listening, and finally, as the sun dipped below the surface of the horizon fully, he saw it. A flicker of orange in a forest of green, something as out of place as he was in the foliage, and something he knew deep down exactly what it was.

He was already moving before he could fully think it through, bow slung into his quiver, hands grabbing the branch below him, swinging down to the forest floor, smoothly rolling and bouncing out of it as he started running towards the oddity he had spotted, perhaps the most dangerous thing in a forest.

Fire.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Kaleh'a knew the layout of the surrounding area well, and it was only three minutes before he reached a small, well used road that cut through the forest, about where he had estimated the orange glow of early embers lay. He wasn't sure if he should be proud he was right, or worried, perhaps even fearful as he took in the scene. A carriage sat in the middle of the road, overturned and the lantern in the front broken, burning oil licking at the dry wood as someone pounded on the broken door from the inside, the twisted frame jamming it shut. He could see that all, about thirty yards away, clear as day as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, scanning the surroundings for danger. He found a hint of it only ten yards in front of him.

In the road, the carriage driver lay, and just from the glance Kaleh'a took, he knew the man was dead. His legs...his legs were no longer joined with his body. And his chest...

The archer felt like he was going to puke as staggered out of the tree line, his gaze flicking away from the man as he took a deep breath, the sound of someone yelling catching his attention, his eyes alighting on a, thankfully, alive and well dressed knight. His armor was dented, right in the center of the chest plate, but he was up, waving his sword, and staring down--

"Never hunt a red eye."

Red eyes. Angry, blazing, red eyes. The pierced the soul with hatred as the beast stomped a hoof, the boar staring down the frantically waving guard, not a drop of sympathy in it's gaze as it shook it's head. A tusk, easily twice the length of Kaleh'a's torso, curved from it's lips, the other, shorter tusk chopped off halfway, but already the full one had blood dripping from it, a tattered remnant of a guard's clothing hanging from the tip. The wound on the fallen driver's chest, the force he had to have taken... Bile rose in his mouth as Kaleh'a pushed forward, his body recoiling inside as he reached back and pulled out his bow, yelling out as the boar stomped it's front hoof again,

"The carriage! Get behind it!"

The guard, surprised to hear a voice turned, eyes widening as he saw the archer knocking an arrow and aiming it right at the creature easily twice his size, recognizing the wisdom of those words as he took a step towards the only barrier he could put between himself and the monster. But his armor was heavy, his chest was on fire, and his movements were slow, slow enough for the boar to begin it's charge.

Thundering footsteps were met with a twang of a bow string, an iron tipped arrow singing through the air and smacking wetly into the beast's neck, a grunting snort and toss of its head the only sign it had felt the sting of the archer's shot before it was upon the guard, but the arrow saved the guard a gruesome impalement. The toss of the monster's head was enough to turn aside it's tusk, the goring instrument glancing along the guard's side as he screamed in fear and pain, sending the armored man spinning to the ground, but out of harms way. A heavy thud followed, and a shrill shriek rose from the carriage, whoever was within it feeling the jolt and hearing the splinter of wood as the beast turned the carriage rack on the back to splinters. The passenger hold held up, the beast squealed angrily, and those beady red eyes turned towards the last known offender.

"Never hunt a red eye."

Kaleh'a understood why now. The shot he had landed should have ended the threat, on any normal boar he was sure it would have. But this...this monstrosity was another thing entirely. He cursed under his breath, a second arrow knocked, drawn, and released before the beast could fully face him, the second arrow striking just as true, square between and slightly above the eyes. It froze for a second, as if confused, or hopefully, wounded, but dread crept through Kaleh'a as he saw those red eyes narrow, focus, and pin him.

Fear like nothing he had ever felt stilled his arms, his hands, his feet. It left him frozen, rooted, a dead man. No! Move! Do not freeze! He had to move, his life depended on it.

The boar's left front hoof scraped the dirt angrily, beady eyes fixed on its target.

Familiarity. That was what made an archer dangerous. Knowing their bow, their arrows, their draw speed and turning each motion into a smooth and sure flow. Muscle memory propelled his arm, up and back, hand closing around three arrows, two transferred to his bow hand, the third knocked on the string.

The boar's left foot dug again at the dirt, and with a squeal it charged.

It was enough to shock the Miqo'te's system, get him moving, a rapid full draw and release, his left arm stinging as the bow string snapped along it, no guard there for the young archer. The second arrow was knocked before the beast made it five yards, fifteen left between him and death, the steel tip joining it's earlier brother between the eyes, sinking a few inches into flesh, but nothing more. The second draw and fire was quicker, accurate, true as the last, slamming into the beast to the left of the other two, turning its head into a pincushion of three arrow shafts, but none of the heads biting deep enough. Ten yards.

He didn't know who was screaming, wasn't even aware it was his lips parted in that terrifying caterwaul as he drew back the third arrow, the beast's breath hot as it closed within five yards, three, two--

That last arrow sang as it left his bow, a tune he had never heard before as bow string propelled it forward, wooden shaft scraping along wooden guide, metal tip gleaming as the carriage seat caught fire and flared to life. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was skill. Either way, the arrow found something besides tough, thick skin.

The beast's eye gave easily to the force of the arrow tip, collapsing and welcoming it into its home, the shaft following at speed as blood gushed around it. The arrow continued onward, discontent with its initial findings, travelling deeper, deeper than any arrow before it had landed. That beady red eyes was replaced in seconds with a three feathered flight, the knocking notch and its supporting feathers the only thing visible of the arrow, the second eye falling as lifeless as the other now was.

Legs crumpled, the dead weight too much to support as the beast belly flopped to the earth, sliding without so much as a sound those last two yards, tusk sliding clear of its target, the short nose of the monster stopping right at Kaleh'a's boots, snot dripping from it as the archer stared down at it in shock. No breaths lifted the thing's chest. No heart still beat in it. Only black and red ichor leaked from its eye, the killing blow, as the archer tried and failed to comprehend what had just happened.

His mouth was slightly agape, his heart hammering in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his body, his tail twitching and flicking behind him as he tried to catch his breath, throat raw for some reason. He had imagined his first kill a hundred times, fired a thousand arrows for that very purpose. It was always an animal, unaware, clean and fast, no chance to run, or hide, or spoil the hunt. It had never crossed his mind that it would be this, staring down a boar, a red eyed boar, charging him, shooting like his life depended on it--because his life depended on it, and dropping a monster that had taken a life already. He had never imagined--

The boar twitched, a phantom twitch, muscles relaxing, and the Miqo'te leapt a solid yard straight up, hissing wildly as his tail shot out and bristled, an arrow just appearing in his hand as he loosed it point blank as soon as his feet touched the ground, right into the beast's head again as he hissed again. But it was already dead, the arrow seeming to stick out of its target oddly, as if to ask "why did you do that?" He took a slow, deep, shuddering breath and let his shoulders relax, lowering his bow as he breathed out, taking in another breath...why did he smell...smoke?

"Oh. Oh shit! The carriage!"

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was much easier to break into the carriage than out, a shrilly trilling woman dressed in expensive, but not haughty clothes pulled out first by Kaleh'a, before an equally well dressed man he could only assume was the woman's husband followed, only needing the faintest attempt at help before he just hauled himself out. The woman was staring at the beast, rooted at the spot she had jumped down to from the overturned carriage, a mere seven or so yards from the front of the carriage, as her husband set about throwing dirt on the fire, Kaleh'a quickly joining him, then giving up, kicking the weakened driver's seat a few times, dislodging the flaming bench, and kicking it away from the rest of the carriage. It only took the two men a minute to put the flat piece of wood out that way, before both, and then a third in the form of a hobbling soldier, put out the lantern and lingering oil flame. Slowly, all three turned tired, and beaten, faces towards the beast.

"Our driver, Reyn." The nobleman turned a hopeful gaze towards Kaleh'a, and he just shook his head, unwilling to speak what he had seen, what had become of the man, gesturing to the noblewoman.

"You should keep her towards the back of the carriage. That way she won't see--"

"Is it dead?"

The soft voice that cut off the young archer grabbed both their attention, Kaleh'a taking a moment to answer as he saw what looked like overwhelming awe on the woman's face. "Yes. It's dead."

"And you killed it?" Her husband was at her side in a moment, murmuring softly to her as he turned her towards the carriage, guiding her towards the back of it, but her words still reached Kaleh'a where he stood. "How...how do you kill something like that?"

His tail flicked, and he slowly lifted his hands, as if realizing for the first time that yes, he had killed it. He had killed his first prey. He had done it, and as he stared at his hands, he noticed they were shaking slightly, as if her words confirming it made it real.

"It gets...easier." The raspy breath beside the cat boy nearly sent him jumping again, until he saw armor, a now sheathed sword, and a guard looking a good bit worse for wear, although incredibly standing and standing well. "You saved us."

Kaleh'a could only stare at the guard, dumbstruck, and a little confused, meeting his hazel eyes for a moment before realizing what the guard was hinting at, the archer's eyes widening as he shook his head. "I don't expect a reward!"

"But you deserve one." The guard reached out, grabbed Kaleh'a's left hand, pulling it up and pressing a small, but heavy bag of coins into it, giving the archer a stern look. "Don't try to give it back. You did a good thing. That money is nothing compared to our lives." The sad glance towards Reyn's body had the Miqo'te's ears wilting, his mouth opening and closing, trying to work the words out of his mouth, the money feeling heavier in his hand.

"I'm sorry...I didn't get here sooner."

"Don't be. There was nothing you could do." The guard shook his head, and slowly sank back against the carriage, sitting with a groan as he gestured towards the beast. "Came out of the forest on our side, gored the poor fool before he could even react, and tipped our carriage. Honestly...I thought we were done until you came along."

"I saw the fire." He didn't know why he felt like he had to say it, but it just made sense to say it, motioning to where he had come from. "The sun had already set, I knew it had to be a fire."

The guard gave the young man another look, a long one, before he remarked, "You know this area well."

"I do."

"Anywhere we could stay?" A simple question, and one Kaleh'a should have thought of, especially while still holding their money. He rapidly pocketed it, nodding as the bag of gold found its home against his chest, turning towards the road.

"Yes! My town, I'm sure we could find a place for you. It's about..." He glanced around, checking their surroundings, and the position of the moon, before confirming, "no more than twenty minutes walk."

The guard chuckled, and gestured towards the road. "We won't have to walk."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

When Kaleh'a saw the flicker of torches in front of his town's gate, he knew his absence had not gone unnoticed. The town of only thirty some-odd people meant everyone knew everyone, and when one went missing, everyone went looking. Instead of having to venture out into the dark, they were instead met by the Miqo'te archer leading two horses, a nobleman and his wife on one, and a guard in silver armor on the other. It was a white haired Miqo'te female who broke the line first, letting out a wail as she ran towards her son, hugging him as he laughed, Kaleh'a happily returning his mother's hug before she broke their embrace to look him over.

"What were you thinking?! Staying out this late. You know what lurks in this fore--"

"Mom, please." He chuckled and nodded to their guests, already the townsfolk helping them down and asking if they were okay. "They needed help, I gave it."

His mother's eyes narrowed, taking in the guard's dented armor, and his ragged appearance. "Help, help with what?"

Abruptly, a cry of surprise went up, and the townsfolk shifted, flowed, and then pressed towards the dark, shadowy object behind the horses, what they had dragged the entire way back to the town. His mother didn't need to look closer, her night vision giving her all the view she needed, eyes going wide as she saw the arrows sticking from its head, turning slowly back to her son as he gave her a tired smile.

"You were right, mom. You never forget your first kill."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He never spent a cent of that money. Even to this day he carries it with him. The bag has changed, a padded one to muffle the sound of clinking coin, but he never forgot. The money became a reminder, of why he hunted, what he hunted, and for who he hunted. He hunted to protect. He hunted the monsters of the world. And he hunted for those who couldn't. And with every step, and every draw, and every soft shift of those coins, he'd always remember that first kill, and the path it set him on.

13th-dragon-prince -- [Prior]

With hands on his hips, the muscle of his tail swished along the ground; never coming in contact with it directly, the sensitive nature of those telling nerves keeping watch and level before any touch could happen.

“Bryn has yet to burn the wick.” His words made little sense in a natural context, but when one held the heat of aetherical hearts, everything could be made a candle. “Let us go. Up up!”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Claws, at his back, the prehensile feet of Whill catching fabric as the Au Ra steadied himself, steadied himself against Bryn. He hadn't thought through the position he was suddenly in, the petite male clinging to him, hands on his collar, and close. The closeness wasn't new, but the position was, the tail around his wrist, the clacking laugh and the way he purred out those words. An honor for him. What honor, he could only guess, the soldier barely had time to think on it before wide eyes told him he had caught his interest, the wrapped closeness was relinquished, and Whillow showed off flexibility Bryn could never achieve.

It was that flexibility that had him staring, unable to take his eyes off him as the petite gecko stretched back and over, his hands hitting the dirt as his lower half was still pressed against Bryn. His breath hitched, for a moment, and then was gone, the sight of Whill so perfectly standing into a headstand without hesitation or strain something to behold. Muscles may have flexed, claws may have dug, but not a single shake in arms or body was evident, and the twitching of his tail...tiny little movements, balancing the frame like it was nothing as Bryn let out a slow breath. Dark hair hid Whillow's gaze, but not Bryn's, his eyes watching until the onyx scaled feet were back on the ground, and he found himself staring at the crouched half-dragon. His eyes crinkled slightly, peering into those expanded pupils as he saw the telltale signs of interest, and only confirmed with words.

For a moment, Bryn wondered if the Au Ra felt shame. He wondered if he ever got flustered, ever thought about what he was doing, or ever thought about his actions and teased those around him on purpose. It could be all instinct, just giving into little whims, but either way, he seemed to enjoy and know how to poke Bryn's buttons.

Before the carnivore--if stories were to be believed--decided to turn his chocobo into a meal, he listened to Whill and got up, bearing down on his rifle, using it as a brace to lift himself, toned muscles rippling under his coat as he rose, the tall, well built figure finally in full view, dwarfing Whillow by over a foot as he chuckled at his enthusiasm, whistling once for his chocobo. The red feathered bird let out an answering fweeee, running over and stopping before its owner, waiting patiently as the soldier slung his rifle onto a saddlebag, only one weighing down his mount on the right hand side. For a moment, he considered letting Whillow pull himself onto the beast, then thought better of it, recognizing the generally skittish creature may not like a clawed and toothed chicken eater on its back without any sort of buffer.

Throwing himself up onto the saddle, he swung a leg over, situated himself, and looked down at the shorter horned man, eyeing him a moment much like his chocobo was, before offering a hand and saying, "Use me to climb on, I can handle a claw or two, but Featherflame won't take kindly to it."

Featherflame let out a shrill noise in agreement, a clawed foot pawing the ground, before clacking its beak and holding its head high in pride.

13th-dragon-prince -- [Prior]

[...]Just like now, as acting on the desire to pounce upon the hunter was his instinct; Whillow had made no motion to resist it. In certain circumstance this could be a dangerous thing if a beast did not know the rules.

Cocking his head to the side, the gecko let his legs relax at the sides of Bryn’s waist, blinking at him as if trying to figure out how to translate the words in his head into the common tongue; “Mo-rr Dho-na is tired… tiring?” He chuffed, the heat from his core akin to that of a dragon’s as the air ruffled the blue collar beneath him. “Bryn is not boring.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The clack of teeth, the way the gecko's accent poked through as if the words were unnatural to him, and those sharp, slitted pupils reminded Bryn that Whill was every bit a beast as he was man. He watched those eyes carefully as he lowered his half raised rifle, setting it flat against the ground as he waited for an answer, instead getting...half of one.

Slow trails of claws along his coat didn't even bother the Hyur, only caught his interest momentarily before a tug at his right hand caught his attention, the tail he held shifting in his grasp as the half-dragon-lizard tried to move it, and for a moment, Bryn swore he remembered feeling a shiver go through the entire body of Whillow, right as his hand had closed around that appendage. Impossible to confirm now, but filed away, a question to ask when he wasn't holding his tail, or someone else completely.

He let it go at the second shift from it, the short, not staccato but to the point words catching the soldier's attention, the accent not too bad and easy enough to understand what the pouncer meant. "Waiting for me," he mumbled, and a part of him wanted to scowl, to scold the fellow Scion for wandering off in a dangerous land, but it seemed...laughable. He wasn't heavy atop Bryn, even if his size did not align with his weight exactly, the inset scales clearly adding more weight than the powerful muscles that rippled over his body, but the speed, strength, awareness--it rivalled Bryn's, and reminded him of another speedy fighter he had once trained. And why he had, again, likely been chosen to watch over the wily Whill.

It was during those thoughts of inset scales that he had reached up and tapped one on Whill's chest, the firm, slightly glossy addition that seemed so natural on the horned man that Bryn had hardly thought of it, catching that light, and a bit of blue shining through. Still dark, almost black, but normal akin to the sniper's shirt now that he looked. His gaze lazily trailed to Whill's face, taking in the touch of scales on his chin and cheeks, and reinforcing his opinion that "Au Ra" had to be incorrect, the greyish-blue tint of his skin so...unique that he doubted Eorzea had ever seen it before. His eyes though...

Silver eyes met silver-blue, and for a moment it was like staring in a mirror, the color so similar to his own that if you took away the reflective nature, slit pupils, and scales around them, they could have matched. Bryn recognized the playful curiosity in them, the want for adventure, the yet unbroken spirit. And in his gaze, it flickered back, something animal within him rising and flickering teasingly, as if to taunt the man laying atop him.

He almost laughed at the warm statement, the slight twitch of his lips the only hint at it, his thoughts turning to it, analyzing it, and then concluding, like a cold blooded lizard, before moving on, mildly thankful for the cleaning of his hair. Sometimes, despite the lack of personal space, Whill showed a compassion that belayed his playful nature. He was not expecting the sudden wiggle, the way the scaled man just made himself more comfortable atop him, his right hand lifting and resting on his back, scaled just like the rest of him, soft skin where he wasn't, as Bryn tracked those almond shaped slits.

Play. That's what he wanted. The taps of his claw against Bryn's lips with each word reinforced it, the "compliment" hitching an eyebrow as the Hyur held Whill's gaze, the hum felt and heard from the gecko as those words slowly digested. Mor Dhona is tiring, hm? How interesting. He wondered if anyone had taken the troublemaker exploring, or if his tasks and goals had always proven fight based, when the need arose. After it was said again, about how unboring he was, Bryn had an idea, a place to visit, and let the warrior have some real fun with his watchful eye on him, but, he wanted to make sure.

"Besides my warmth," the nestled position of the lizard man more than enough proof that he was still enjoying it, "what makes me...not boring?"

general psa that i will NEVER be upset with you for taking forever/never answering something i send you 

we all have lives outside of this and muses are fickle like, i get it and i never want anyone to be afraid that i’d hold it against them like if i send you a meme and you’re not feeling it? you don’t need to answer it

if we plot something and i make a starter and you’re not feeling it anymore? that’s okay too. even if halfway through a thread it feels like it’s going nowhere so you wanna drop it? that’s 100% okay

honestly? you don’t even need to let me know you’re dropping something/not answering something like im not here to pressure you or bug you about replies and i don’t care if you’re actively writing with other people  or anything, like if you’re not interested in writing something with me i won’t take it personally

and even if you don’t want to drop something and take literal months to answer? that’s chill like me too okay

and all i ask is that you extend the same courtesy to me <3