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Kasuin
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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
Viske watched with enthusiasm, giggling in conjunction with Jack's assertion of it being fun as she had said too. There was no choice. It would be fun! As the wood creaked loose and the sword clattered to the floor, the large furry paw swiped out of the newly made opening, the claws raking like ferocious knives as the creature inside growled, orange and black striped fur flying as it scraped free against the jagged construction of the crate and the damage Jack had wrought.

Eeee! Viske clapped her hands while making gleeful squeals of delight over this new found prize. It wants out! Outy out! She capered around in the air, assuring herself that a loose tiger would be infinitely more fun than a trapped one.

----

The draconian woman stayed where she was in the water as it swirled around her calmly. Once again she spoke no words visibly, but her voice was clearly audible. I Rainya. Her glistening claws gently brushed the scales of her chest, dipping her head gracefully even as her fans fluttered lightly like the petals of a flower. Her eyes partially closed before slowly opening as she brought her head back up, the lighter blue within their depths swirling like a rip current. I once queen of village below. Wicked mage trap me here in water. Now I wait long time for Pokey to save me because only Pokey brave enough to come this far to this place. Pokey rescue me and I give Pokey anything he ask for.

Her tail danced gently, almost like a water reed on its side in a pond, rising and falling. This female did not ply pheromones as others of the species did. She simply was. The scent of the river and the scent of her seemed very similar, but different enough to know that they were different items. Her body was less heavy in the hips than Pasuk's and looked more robust than Bena's. Any draconian man would have to have admitted she was beautiful, especially as the drizzle made her sparkle as if her scales were covered in gems. Pokey was still far enough away from her that she could not touch him even if she reached out towards him.

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Sisly smiled and took Stomp's sword from him. Gladly, I take. I think of Stomp often, I think. Stomp remember me. The green draconian woman held the pommel of the blade lightly. It was an abused piece of junk and would barely cut cheese to judge from the nicks along its sharp edges. I fix this up and keep for you when Stomp return some day. I use to protect our hatchling while you gone. Her grip tightened around the hilt and she held it closer to herself as she smiled at the man she had slept with, a smile both sad and happy at the same time.

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Mittens was strong enough to push at Darly and for her to be pushed back by his desire to be dry. The hiskr woman laughed softly as his stomach and chest stuck out before her in the open flap of his cloak. They were good looking under the untidy fur, taut muscle that was well developed even though it was starved. It was humorous just as it was enjoyable for her. Her laugh came out stronger and she released his arm to use both of her hands to try to warm him up even as he nudged her back. There was a wall at her back a small distance away, so she wasn't afraid that he would accidentally knock her down even if he managed to press her up against it. Her right hand went to his stomach and her left to his chest. She had to lean down a little bit to get to both places easily, her fingers roughing up his fur quickly and probably being quite the tickly things unless he wasn't ticklish. It was taking out the cold and damp anyway even if Mittens turned out to be ticklish.

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Jan reached the rope first and grabbed onto it tightly before scrabbling up the line and the hull with her bare feet. She was certainly less graceful at this point and it was easy to see that there was an issue with one of her legs, but she didn't say a thing about it. Harold's thoughts about her not corroborating his story about the hiskrs being at fault for the loss of a weapon was completely what would have happened if he decided to drop it. Well, at least the pounding stopped for now then. Now if the mate would only get her ass back aboard so I could have some shoretime, then all would be much better. She climbed slowly, but she was making headway at least.
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Blood on the Breeze and Death in the Dirt · Sea Travel and the Islands


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