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.

[Windra]

Ah, there was Geth and their rider! Perfect! A human could assist where Bubbeth could not. There was only so much that claws and teeth could do without drawing blood. As much as he wanted to rip Ph'langes head off right then, going without a rider was unthinkable and deadly. (And he couldn't bring himself to inflict ... mortal ... wounds.)

Wings of simple design sprung outwards with powerful bursts meant to slow his acceleration. Gradually the blue came towards the ground, landing with a hard thud perhaps a little too close to Ph'langes. Not that it did any good. All the sand and shell in the world wouldn't stir the sleeping slacker even if it coated his entire face and dumped into his trousers.

You'll do perfectly! Bubbeth snapped his attention on Issalle. Please! I fear if I do, I may accidentally remove a limb! And by all means do not be gentle.

[Dragon]

Not gentle? Issalle could handle not gentle. Not that she was going to start with anything truly mean, but ... well, there was an empty bottle right there and some seawater that was just so available ...

Quickly filling the bottle, Issalle casually upended it over Ph'langes's head. Geth watched curiously - there was so much about humans that they simply did not understand - as their rider whistled cheerfully to herself.

Honestly, though, Issalle kind of hoped Ph'langes refused to wake up and forced her to get more creative ...

[Windra]

Issalle would get her wish when Ph'langes grumbled incoherently in his sleep and rolled onto his side. Arms and legs tucked close to his abdomen, taking on a fetal position. A thumb even propped itself into his mouth. "Mmmmmomma *snoooore* I wet the beeeeeee ... "

He drifted off into a long, sawing snore. Bubbeth stared blankly. Red eyes whirled with flashes of yellow confusion. The blue could not help but pry. Suddenly he jerked back, draconic lips curling back the best way they could in profound disgust. Truly? You did?

So many things being referenced, and a good handful probably sailing right over the whiterider's head. As well they probably should.

Angrily, Bubbeth cracked the whiplike tip of his tail against Ph'langes chin. He jerked briefly. His head lolled backwards at an awkward angle. "Syrup ... got a kick ... " And right back down. Completely unphased.

[Dragon]

For a brief moment, Issalle wondered if she should be worried about how minimally responsive the older rider was. Geth was certainly peering at him curiously, trying to take in what, exactly, was going on.

Is the rider broken? they asked. Issalle, he must be fixed. For Bubbeth.

Fixed. Issalle wasn't sure she could do that, but maybe she could force him into consciousness. She was just going to have to be more creative. Apparently, physical shock wasn't going to do much, not if he'd successfully slept through having water upended over him and getting smacked with the blue's tail.

"We could try rolling him into the sea." Maybe having his life in peril would make him wake up. She looked up at the blue for approval of her idea, although Geth had already leaned in and was nosing at the rider's side, contemplating doing just what Issalle had suggested.