#solodesh

In a parallel universe, Solomon and Desh are mismatched detectives in disco's golden era where they solve crimes and dance!

"Look where you're swinging your arms!"

There are many subtle whacks upside the head because Solomon is the ditzy one in this wacky pair.

But always, always stick to the groove.

Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin'

Two Allagan clones have a wedding photoshoot.

The Meracydians circled Solomon, armed and primed to run him through if he sneezed. "We have you surrounded, Allagan! Lay down your tome and surrender!"

"Hmph." He holstered his grimoire and raised his hands. His topaz carbuncle crouched low and growled at the enemy. "Take your prize to your leader, then."

He let them search his person, snatching his tome away. His carbuncle dissolved into a flurry of sparks. Another tied his hands behind his back and marched him off to their camp, kicking him down to kneel in front of their squad captain.

"Bold of you to face us alone, Allagan," the captain smirked.

He shrugged. "All part of the game," he answered.

"Game? What do you-" The rumbling earth cut the captain's question short. The shadow that eclipsed the encampment looked and felt like a malm long as Meracydian troops gawked up at it.

Desh stood up from his mount, casting an arrogant glance at those beneath him. The dragon threw back its head, its roar shaking the ground and collapsing tents. Behind him, a fleet of Allagan warships approached.

Solomon could only squint through the gushing winds around him. "Bit much isn't it?" he shouted.

Glitter sprinkled over the weal on Desh's cheekbone. It was akin to a light breeze over an open wound: tingling but ineffective. Another pinch of glitter reduced the redness though the swelling persisted. Another round: the welt shrank by a thumbnail. Another, another.

Desh finally pushed Solomon's hand away. "Enough," he growled.

"Hold still, it finally looks better," Solomon insisted.

(NSFW)