[OOC] Vignette.
That was, aha, heroic of you.
Shut up.
The jungle is more annoying leaving the Seven than it was coming in, branches seem to have thickened and are bent on clinging to his clothes and scratching his arms; the insects are coming in more obnoxious clouds. Above all of that he's sticky and hot and his hand is throbbing and so is his face.
Oh his face. He gingerly touches his fingertips to the swelling bump on his jaw and winces more from the imagined sight of himself than from actual pain. If there's marks, someone's in trouble.
You haven't done something like that since the old days. Are you getting soft in your old age?
I could've sworn I told you to shut up.
Ha! Ahahaha.
The beach comes into view finally, and the huge dark shape that is Ehrudith's waiting body.
At least you came to get me. That's kind.
You could almost say it's heroic.
I will beat you. You're just a giant pet. I will hit you.
Oh bring it, old man.
He almost loses his footing on the shifting sand of a dune that got in the way, luckily he rights himself before a topple. Once he's reached the dragon's side he grabs both lead straps with one hand and hauls himself up the several stories' worth of leg and side and shoulder and settles in in his usual niche.
So what happened? You wanted to sit back and watch. I know you.
I'm clearly senile.
I see in there, Keraus. Don't bullshit me.
Just... home, Ehrudith. Please.
That's all it takes to shake the beast out of his disdainful tone and snarky comments because at the heart of every dragon is his rider's heart, and even if his rider's in particular has shriveled and withered over time it's still a concern. Ehrudith spreads his wings and leaps up to catch a downbeat and pull himself into the sky and angle towards his ledge and the darkness of the cave within.
Once inside, K'aus leaves a trail of clothing to the bed: shoes, shirt, pants, briefs. He doesn't crawl in under the blankets, he lays on his back spread-eagled above them and stares up at the ceiling. After a long time he reaches out for Ehrudith, for the creaking of aged wood and the whisper of wind through the holes of yellowed linen sails.
I'm an old man.
So am I.
I don't think there's any room for us here anymore.
There comes a time in life when you don't have to fight anymore. We should be grateful.
In the dark, K'aus's eyes close.
My body hurts.
I know it does.
I'm tired.
I know you are. But let's not leave the party just yet.