[PRP] without the thorns [ r'ose&sawi + ???

[houllow]

She hated the beard. 'Hated' was actually putting it rather mildly, as Sahrawith actively loathed it with every inch of her body. Her hearts would go in to overtime every second she looked at her lifemate and saw that....thing on his face. It looked like an ugly wound, or that some small creature had latched on and refused to let go, or - really, did it matter? The bottom line was that Sahrawith absolutely hated R'ose's little beard.

The problem was that he absolutely loved it.

There was endless touching, grooming, whatever. It didn't matter that the beard didn't suit him in the slightest, it was more about the victory of successfully growing one. R'ose had always been so sure he'd never be able to grow facial hair, so this sparse and ugly thing on his face was a symbol of pride.

Sahrawith, however, was willing to pay anyone all of their wages for the past Turn to see it gone, and maybe that was why the green dragon sat out in the Weyrbowl on alert, searching for anyone who might come to her rescue.

Spockat

 

[Spockat]

Misuth looked positively fantastic. She had been scrubbed clean and oiled - and sat primly sunning herself. She flitted her wings this way and that, with unadulterated childish joy. Her tail thumped against the ground, drumming out a pattern of delight.

Which was all well in good, unless you asked Sh'vel's back. His sleeves were rolled up too many times, and he could likely wring more water out of them than he had cleaned Misuth with. It was supposed to be his rest day, but like he could ever refuse her.He'd deal with the sore back and laze about another morning, he supposed.

It was Misuth who noticed the intense stare from across the way. She lifted a wing, looking at it in different angles in the light. Has he missed a spot? Is all well?

houllow

[x]