Lackadaisy [Open]

[Windra]

When searching for Ph'langes, one had only to follow the scent of booze.

Bubbeth wished this were a rare occurrence, but the man was a completely obstinate pain in the ass who liked to shirk his duties when and wherever possible. And he was fanstcally wonderful at throwing walls up between his psyche and the dragon's. Taking off in the middle for an afternoon when the blue was breathing down his neck particularly hard? Most definitely.

His hues of oceans and clouds could have been swimming in crimson with the heat of Bubbeth's growling irritation. His wings carried him to the pristine white shore where a borrowed runner grazed freely on the grass growing on rolling dunes. Ph'langes presence was indicated by the telltale empty bottle of red wine strewn carelessly upon the beach. His hand could be seen laying limp beneath the shade of a tree.

The rest of him was attached. Not for much longer!

PH'LANGES! Bubbeth roared. WAKE YER SORRY HIDE UP THIS INSTANT OR I WILL CARRY YOU BACK IN BITS AND PIECES!

The old man's head lolled from one side to the other. "Mmmmeh," he groaned. Then snorted, and fell back to sleep.

[Dragon]

Issalle couldn't help it. She giggled. She and Geth were enjoying some time at the beach in the early fall weather, probably one of their last, if not their last, trip out to the White Coast of the turn. Neither of them had thought much of seeing another rider drinking on the beach ... but apparently, at least his dragon thought he was shirking.

"We could help you wake him up if you wanted," Issalle offered, a little too innocent.

Geth looked at her suspiciously. They could never quite figure out why their rider did half the things she did, but at least this was not one of the strange situations involving leaking or turning strange colors. Still, they did not feel the need to intervene; surely the blue would object if Issalle was up to anything wrong toward his rider.