Some cursing.

( How's tha' for 'guy time', then, mate? )

( They're going to be baby dragons, Mickey, you know that, right? )

His voice was rough, echoing through his weyr - and there was no response from either round green firelizard or lean bronze dragon, nor from the darkening sunset sky beyond Mikhuth, beyond the ledge. D'kai paced, rounding what sparse furniture he had, kicking at tunics laying strewn along the floor, striking a fist into an open palm in emphasis to ( Read more... )

There's a rhythm to it. It's graceful, it's elegant: a snap to the wrist and the line flicks long and lithe out over the water, settling for a instant before - snick! - it's back again, lure flicker-flashing through the air before sent back out again. It's repetitive, but not the sort of same-again motion that binds you to a void of thoughtlessness ( Read more... )

( Silver coins that jingle jangle, fancy shoes that dance in time )

There's a guttering image, out of focus and blinking in and out - the transparent red of skin held up too close to a bright light, snaking veins and pinked skin all bundled up into one compact shape.

And then it's gone, fading into darkness.

There's a silhouette of a hand, as pressed against frosted glass  - a sound, an unfathomable, distant murmur ( Read more... )