#drogars

ᒥ🕷ᒧ—      Traveling the realm had its downsides is what Rinnill had learned in his fifty years. Baths? A true rarity. And not simply bathing in a stream, a true bath in a tub with soaps, salts, and oils.

His clothes were long discard to reveal onyx skin covered in many light-colored scars. The majority were in long lashes down his back. However, they were mostly covered once he let his hair down from the tight bun. The long, silvery white strands had a bit of wave to them from always being up.

The bath water steamed and Rinnill sunk down in with a contented sigh. The scent of salts and oils mixed into the water wafted through the air; lavender salts and sandalwood oil were used for this bath. It's then the door opens to his recently made companion, Drogar. The half-giant wore only a towel, surely intending to take a bath himself.

THE MUSES SPEAK: EMOTIONS + EXPERIENCES || Open!

" Too much, if I'm honest. All of them uphill battles, too, " she admitted, breathing a sigh through her nose. " But, the survivability of my people is a worthwhile endeavor, so we continue to power through. Much of what I'm planning is related to that: building a town further west; finding easier ways to get water, food, and other supplies to the new town and the fortress; planning more hunting parties in the desert now that the sand storms have subsided and training them to deal with the monsters out there; figuring out gardening and farming if we can swing it; repairing the temples further in the desert that have fallen to disrepair. "

[ ACT ONE ] - Best boi

“Hey, Drogar, psst.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best of the ideas to go and try to wake up an almost 8 feet tall goliath after a long day fighting hags, goblins, gnolls and even owlbears, but this, this was important. Vitally important. Like, four paws and a wagging tail important. 

“Drogar, uhm, wake up, lad.” 

She nudged his shoulder and when it didn’t work, she poked his chest. 

“Dro— no, wait, Scratch—!” 

It seemed the pup had waited enough for its turn in trying waking him up, so the dog just sneaked forward, pushed through and lapped the paladin’s cheek. The tiefling gasped, then chuckled, her hand going for a face palm. It seemed Scratch was as happy to bring the good news about him joining the merry camp as much Melihël was.

He was incredible, really, fooling hags and goblins and finding their camps without, well, a scratch. Which was a huge relief for the sorceress, who was worried since they left him on his own. 

CADENCE ... DO YOU HEAR THE CALL ? Hearts resound, these rhythms reborn, igniting in whispers of heat in flesh ... do you hear, flowers, blooms of the intimate ? Do you hear the sounds of flesh, the dripping of desires ? Pomegranates taste of tart & sweet, scarlet the shade of fingers once pale & lips, stained, press a hum of delight as rain slips a slower tale ... bodies rest soaked by defended flame, clothes which cling & spill the color, the shades of skin nearly revealed.

AH ... WHAT EYES LINGER, sweeter than storm blight & kinder than silver blossoms ... she can feel them outline her, the heat a deeper grow in the depth of self ( she has never felt so exposed ... & yet, she does not mind, if it is him. )

THE COILING SIGHT, such large hands that extend their glaze, trapping 'pon her frame ... gaze follows the movement, she is pulled 'pon his lap as though an empress to her throne. TEETH PRESS 'PON THE SOFTER SKIN OF HER OWN LIPS, breath to shake soft, so this is the encapsulating want ... such an organ pressing again her helps nothing in this growing unrest ... this surging yearning.

❛❛ Did you know ... ❜❜ HER VOICE, HONEY SWEET, like the blossom to be suckled, each word heavy in this need. ❛❛ It is not only knights whom conquer dragons, but paladins as well ? ❜❜ BODY SHIFTS SLIGHT, to face him she turns & the heart does soar ... such gentle beauty, this sweet man of unwavering heart, such an unyielding soul ──────── fingers shape the structure of his jaw, thumb to linger 'pon his warm lips, these mulberry colors ... heavens forgive her, for her heart has never shaken in such an art before the encounter of him, such a sight of boundless ... ah, even the word beauty fails to describe him.

SLOWLY, SHE SPILLS AWAY, flowing back 'pon the earth as thighs remain at his sides, slowly shifting for fabric to slip, nearly unveiling the sight of what is typically hidden by her dress. HEART TUMBLES IN BEATING, the heat far louder than any time before. BENEATH HIM SHE IS, tresses which play, fabrics that lay, this dragon maiden of secrets in a half revealed state. ❛❛ My dear iron vowed, my Drogar, won't you conquer this dragon ? Allow for me to sing for you as you ... ❜❜ FINGERS EXTEND, callus & scarred as his own they capture his digits between her own & she guides his hand over fabric, resting at a certain place. ❛❛ Conquer here. ❜❜

⁀➴ @drogars ⭑.ᐟ

𝄞𝄢 THE NIGHT WAS CHILLY, unforgivingly so. Bree hadn't realized just how cold she was until a sudden, comforting weight settled over her body. Her eyes creaked open to find a silhouetted figure knelt down before her.

She startled. For the briefest, most fleeting of moments— she thought she was somewhere else entirely. But the the haze of sleep cleared from her vision, and she drank in the sight of Drogar's scarred but gentle features, the kindness in his eyes. Bree relaxed almost immediately, a shaky exhale deflating her body.

"Gods, you gave me a fright." The bard sat up a little. It was still well into the night, the moon hung high and heavy in the cradle of the sky.

"What are you still doing up? It's rather late." She pulled the blanket around herself. It still held Drogar's warmth, smelled like him, too. She relished it for a moment, before giving the paladin an inquisitive tilt of her head. "Thank you for the blanket, but won't you be cold?"

"The view is best from up here."

From dozens of feet above, just riding at the level of the canopy, the wizard perched atop a sturdy ice platform that levitated unshakably. One might think it foolhardy, but for what Sypha lacked in height they compensated with magic. Unusual traveling companions they'd become, it was Sypha's turn to take the first watch that night. The thick, old wood was hoary with vines and moss that draped like shrouds upon massive branches, the tree trunks dominating for several feet around while the ground heaved like a stormy sea with roots that grew explosively and erratically. Perhaps it was fortune's favor that a forest infamous for being haunted was simply part of Sypha's repertoire, their affinity for spirits allowing passage to the benign while the fain were turned away at the talismans and barrier spells that they'd swiftly devised. A few harmless nature spirits lingered at the periphery of the camp, a thin ribbon of smoke rising into the canopy from the stew that had been made.

The sunset sat on the horizon like a boiling vat of magma, the night slowly encroaching on the sky that became a gradient of violets and blues, darkening as the minutes ticked by. A good time for the paladin to rest while Sypha kept watch.

"hmm?"

it's a noise and question that says she wasn't fully listening, that she was either zoning out hard due to hunger or she was focusing too much on something else. sometimes it's exhaustion, sometimes it's a fear- a paranoia- but sometimes, it's just a lack of self-care. not self-love; that's different. it doesn't manifest in bouts of irregular meals or bathing. it's much worse- it's always worse.

"yeah," 'only a little.' a smile, turning it on him. "why, you hungry again?"