Kaisel
Haters on my back like a backpack
He fully expects to end up tumbling off her back and clinging onto the end of her tail, whipping behind her diving descent, because speed seems to be the default for this shape. It's not a quality he disagrees with, but it is one he's bracing for, until—it never comes. He knows she heard him because a grunt had spun out of her chest with all the same effect of a boulder falling off a ledge. She also changed her flight pattern, their upward climb spiraling into a lazy parachute back towards the ground.
Gradually he unclenches around the expectation of streaking back to land, and instead folds his arms over her scales, setting his chin onto them as he leans forward on her. Bound by his balance and the lack of turbulence, he languidly soaks in the last of the flight, the slow coast of their return an opportunity to capture and keep as much of the moment as he can. As Kaisel has found before though, moments might leave an imprint, even a stain, but they can never be held in full. Eventually, time moves on, sliding through hands like unspooling strands of silk. This one will linger in his mind at least, of that he's no doubt.
His dismount is considerably more graceful, but it's more like an exaggerated fall than anything else. Still, he stays upright, even if he stumbles a bit when he first touches down and wobbles back and forth, arms out for balance, before finally catching it enough to stand fully. "You definitely are," he laughs easily as she returns to her usual fun-size package, head tilting to fully capture her smile with a return of his own. "You might convert me on that alone, that was elite," he grins, absolutely unserious, mostly. He loops a hand over her shoulders, comfortable in a way that just being on her back as a dragon tends to make someone, her pert tits only drawing his eye once or twice as he steers them back towards the house.
Listen, chat, she's hot, cut him some slack. He's also still riding the euphoria of flying atop a motherfucking dragon.
"You wouldn't have any interest in scaring the shit out of someone by blowing fire hearts around them and roaring in their face, would you?" he asks as he holds open the door of the House of Midnight once more, intending to return to the room to gather his supplies and call it a night, a new friend made. "Because I know just the person." Whatever shit remains between him and Koa, he falls back into old thoughts of pranking him, or maybe it's future ones, where he's certain they'll have moved past the hurt.
Gradually he unclenches around the expectation of streaking back to land, and instead folds his arms over her scales, setting his chin onto them as he leans forward on her. Bound by his balance and the lack of turbulence, he languidly soaks in the last of the flight, the slow coast of their return an opportunity to capture and keep as much of the moment as he can. As Kaisel has found before though, moments might leave an imprint, even a stain, but they can never be held in full. Eventually, time moves on, sliding through hands like unspooling strands of silk. This one will linger in his mind at least, of that he's no doubt.
His dismount is considerably more graceful, but it's more like an exaggerated fall than anything else. Still, he stays upright, even if he stumbles a bit when he first touches down and wobbles back and forth, arms out for balance, before finally catching it enough to stand fully. "You definitely are," he laughs easily as she returns to her usual fun-size package, head tilting to fully capture her smile with a return of his own. "You might convert me on that alone, that was elite," he grins, absolutely unserious, mostly. He loops a hand over her shoulders, comfortable in a way that just being on her back as a dragon tends to make someone, her pert tits only drawing his eye once or twice as he steers them back towards the house.
Listen, chat, she's hot, cut him some slack. He's also still riding the euphoria of flying atop a motherfucking dragon.
"You wouldn't have any interest in scaring the shit out of someone by blowing fire hearts around them and roaring in their face, would you?" he asks as he holds open the door of the House of Midnight once more, intending to return to the room to gather his supplies and call it a night, a new friend made. "Because I know just the person." Whatever shit remains between him and Koa, he falls back into old thoughts of pranking him, or maybe it's future ones, where he's certain they'll have moved past the hurt.
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
