Cubefall?

[whipped_weapon]

It's some time later, after his talk with Tyler,  that the strange magic window that's found everyone else finds Zak.

< Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations

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[antivan_leather]

Zevran, for his part, has not been all that keen on reconfiguring. In his not-so-humble opinion he is, after all, practically perfect as is. It should be said, however, that he has not put the idea entirely out of his mind. He's uncertain whether he wants to spend the entire holiday as something other than himself (and some of the options had been... interesting), but perhaps the last day would be acceptable

[whipped_weapon]

The black griffin gives Zevran a Look.
It's piteous, and pleading and has all the penetrating power of a magic missile.
It could also, very easily be translated as 'Last Puppy in the Shop'

And it's directed right at the Antivan's face.

[antivan_leather]

That is just not fair. Zevran is immune to the majority of those looks when they come from people, save for a select few -- friends from the bar, and children, usually. Animals are a different matter. Zevran likes animals; they tend to be innocent and blameless, and often get the short end of the stick. The Antivan is familiar with the latter, and respectful of the former.

He hesitates for a moment when the creature looks at him like that, and then carefully holds out one hand, inviting the griffin closer. It doesn't seem to want to rend him limb from limb, after all. Few people-- few creatures can maintain that look of pleading innocence when they have less than innocent thoughts on their mind.

Zevran should know. He is, after all, one of those few.

[whipped_weapon]

The drow-turned griffin makes its way carefully over to lay his head on the couch, right next to Zevran's leg, within easy touching distance and his gaze remains on Zevran's face. His eyes are wide and golden and they plead for 'pettings' like a puppy. Or as close as a giant bird-cat hybrid can come to such a thing.

His claws are all sheathed, his body is relaxed, his tail waves slightly, hopefully, as if enticing the Antivan to play. Zak will, of course, take care not to leave a single scratch on Zevran's skin, should he be petted.

[antivan_leather]

The creature certainly seems harmless. Zevran has never seen an actual griffin before, though he knows what they are from pictures and stories. After all, even Antivans know of the fabled mounts of the Grey Wardens of old, though Thedas doesn't have griffins anymore.

The elf reaches out and absently begins to pat and scratch at the beast's feathery head. He uses the pads of his fingers beneath its beak, where a chin would be, and then his nails to get at the spots behind its... ears? Feather tufts? Whatever the hell those things on its head are.

[whipped_weapon]

The griffin smiles, and unbidden, his eyes close in pleasure, and a sound that could be-might be- probably is a purr or its closest equivalent, rumbles up from his chest into his throat and out of his closed beak, as he leans into the touch, body going limp like a great big feathered and furred rug, only his tail swaying back and forth.

"Rrrrrrr."

Oh, that feels good. Zevran certainly has very dexterous fingers.

[antivan_leather]

Any rogue worth his salt has deft hands. Otherwise, setting traps, picking locks, and separating valuables from their owners would be considerably more difficult. Zevran can't help smiling at the way the griffin goes limp, a look of delight on its feathered face as it begins to purr. After a few minutes he puts the milkshake aside on a nearby Lego table, and shifts position so that he can reach the griffin with both hands.

"I take it you like this, yes?" he says, voice amused, as he sinks his other hand into the animal's thick neck feathers reach the sensitive skin beneath.

[whipped_weapon]

"Rrrrr!" Zak agrees wholeheartedly, leaning into every caress. He stretches out his neck for the skilled fingers, purring away like some sort of motor.

Should Zevran take his hands away, the drow-turned griffin won't hesitate to carefully rub his forehead and its crest-feathers, or his ear-tufts, or his cheek-tufts against those skilled fingers, while looking at him piteously.

And he won't allow himself to scratch or harm Zevran at all.Not even the slightest bit. His wings and tail twitch slightly in time to the scratching, though.

[antivan_leather]

Zevran laughs. "I thought as much. Well, you certainly are friendly..."

He continues with the petting or some time, before pulling his hands away. It's only for a few moments, however, so that he can settle on the floor next to the griffin. Then he begins scritching and petting the creature once more, one hand tucked around its neck and scratching near one ear, the other sliding under one folded wing to scritch the warm, downy junction where wing and body meet.

"And what do you think of this, my friend?"

[whipped_weapon]

Oh, that feels good.

Not like sex, of course, sex with Zevran takes the cake, the pie and the salad bar to boot... but it feels really, really good nonetheless.

"Rrrrrr." The griffin purrs, wings twitching in a more pronounced fashion, almost wiggling, as Zevran scratches the sensitive area where wings and body meet. His paws are kneading the rug. But not Zevran.

Zak's lower half is definitely wiggling, though. And so is his tail.

[antivan_leather]

"I will take that as a yes." Zevran grins. "We see to understand each other quite well, you and I, no? Go team. Hurrah."

The Antivan doesn't know much about birds, but he does know about cats; every cat that he's ever known has enjoyed having its rump scratched right at the base of the tail. He smoothly slides his right hand around the griffin's neck to take the place of his left, and that hand scritches its way from feather to sleek fur. Zevran pauses when he gets to the base of the griffin's tail and scratches more purposefully. He just hopes that if the creature lifts its rump like cats do, he'll still be able to reach.

[whipped_weapon]

Aaand the griffin does, indeed, lift its rump like a cat, lifting it regrettably right out of reach. It also leans into his neck-scratches, with the half-closed wings twitching.

"Rrrrrr." he rumbles, dazedly, before his front legs give out, and his upper half goes flat.

The drow-turned griffin is now petting-drunk.

[antivan_leather]

Zevran laughs.

"I should be glad that my drink is keeping itself cold. I do not imagine that you will let me go for some time, will you, my furred and feathered friend?" He continues the scratches and pats. "Where do you come from, I wonder?"

[whipped_weapon]

The griffin leans into each caress, unable to wobble to his feet, wings and paws twitching, tail a-waving in mid-air.

It feels so good! All he can do is "Rrrrrr." and perhaps woozily rub his cheek-tufts against Zevran's arm, or Zevran's cheek if he can manage to wobble up just long enough to change position. A difficult task, given that Zaknafein is currently in a wondrous daze comparable to that caused by a very, very good massage.

[antivan_leather]

The griffin is is cute, Zevran has to admit. It's not a word that he often applies to anything, but in this case it seems to fit. Friendly, affectionate, tactile, and clearly not afraid to ask for what it wants, Zevran can't help but smile as the beast rubs its cheeks and feathers against his arm, shoulder, and face. He's not certain what it's acting like more, a great cat or a trusting and playful dog.

And if Zaknafein thinks this feels good, then he should let Zevran give him a real massage after Cubefall.

The hand that had returned to scratching the griffin's neck now moves to scratch between the animal's shoulders, then at the nape of the neck, and then up to right behind the prominent tufts of feathers on its head and along the crest.

[whipped_weapon]

"Rrrrr."

If Zak had a better hold of his new instincts (that came with this shape) and hadn't been so drunk on petting, he might not have given in to the griffin instincts as badly as he did right now.

When he leaned into every touch and then, pettings-pleasure having silenced the more normally cautious part of the drow that kept his behavior somewhat restrained, proceeded to cave in to the griffin-mind's urge to 'mark his territory'.

Which apparently meant wobbling his his way up and then rubbing up against Zevran, like a kitten who was rubbing up against his owner's legs.

Mine! The griffin-part of himself crowed triumphantly. MY elf. MINE.

It seemed to be very, very.... tactile. And very, very happy to purr and snuggle into aforementioned elf.

Oh, this was going to be embarrassing to explain to Zevran later...