The bean bag chair will not be denied. To attempt such is pure folly. But on the bright side, it also keeps Elidibus from the little shards of black glass.
Lahabrea's responses are slow and measured, from movement to word, as if by patient carefulness he can avoid sudden flashes of rage or violence, root it all in thought and decision and there proceed as safely as possible. He understands what Elidibus is trying to say, he's seen it plenty ... albeit not so much here, on this star, for he traveled it much less than he did the Source in the guise of others.
After a long moment, Lahabrea sets his chisel to one side, the rounded lump of rock with it. Such a thing as entwining with another in that fashion was certainly not what he'd consider normally, it was an affront to autonomy at the very least, far beyond a mere passing touch. But more importantly, did it work? Did those that indulged in such displays benefit from it?
"I have seen what you speak of." Careful. But not here - in Ul'dah, in Gridania, in even Garlemald.
Such a mortal gesture. The surge of disgust and fury rises and falls like a briefly passing wave. Up, down and gone.
Had it always been a mortal gesture? He couldn't remember, and memory didn't elude him as often as it did Elidibus. "But you've somehow gotten smaller," the dragon mutters, as if this was in fact done on purpose by Elidibus simply to make things inconvenient, forcing him to move and adjust to the difference, to the outstretched arm. But he didn't have to move too far, he had a reach that exceeded the grasp of talons re-made sharp in the moon's sway, and there is a whisper of feather on fabric as he adjusts just enough to sweep his tail around, the long brassy feathers clamped close, and wrap the arc of crimson around both Elidibus and the ever tempting bean chair and with it, drag both just a touch closer. Enough to reach without reaching.
He knew that tail was a fair bit longer than most dragons had that he's seen, but it had its uses. "Mayhap.."
no subject
Lahabrea's responses are slow and measured, from movement to word, as if by patient carefulness he can avoid sudden flashes of rage or violence, root it all in thought and decision and there proceed as safely as possible. He understands what Elidibus is trying to say, he's seen it plenty ... albeit not so much here, on this star, for he traveled it much less than he did the Source in the guise of others.
After a long moment, Lahabrea sets his chisel to one side, the rounded lump of rock with it. Such a thing as entwining with another in that fashion was certainly not what he'd consider normally, it was an affront to autonomy at the very least, far beyond a mere passing touch. But more importantly, did it work? Did those that indulged in such displays benefit from it?
"I have seen what you speak of." Careful. But not here - in Ul'dah, in Gridania, in even Garlemald.
Such a mortal gesture. The surge of disgust and fury rises and falls like a briefly passing wave. Up, down and gone.
Had it always been a mortal gesture? He couldn't remember, and memory didn't elude him as often as it did Elidibus. "But you've somehow gotten smaller," the dragon mutters, as if this was in fact done on purpose by Elidibus simply to make things inconvenient, forcing him to move and adjust to the difference, to the outstretched arm. But he didn't have to move too far, he had a reach that exceeded the grasp of talons re-made sharp in the moon's sway, and there is a whisper of feather on fabric as he adjusts just enough to sweep his tail around, the long brassy feathers clamped close, and wrap the arc of crimson around both Elidibus and the ever tempting bean chair and with it, drag both just a touch closer. Enough to reach without reaching.
He knew that tail was a fair bit longer than most dragons had that he's seen, but it had its uses. "Mayhap.."