#tsila

Tsila stared at him for a moment. "I really do not like having morals right now."

Minx bent over cackling, gasping for air.

"What? What's so funny?" She questioned.

"You- you, it's just- you have this huge responsibility suddenly thrust upon your shoulders, and most people would be panicking over "how will I do this,"" His arms waved wildly through the air as he spoke, growing more passionate for every word that passed his lips.

"But you? You're upset because you have morals, which tells me that you've thought of at least one way of getting out of this -which should be impossible!- but you're doing it anyways, and you're grumpy about it."

Sometimes they'd be in human form and do each other's hair and nails and have messy pillow fights that ended with them both getting stuffing e v e r y w h e r e in their hair.

Other times they'd both be in dragon form, cuddling up with each other while Tsila teaches Ghylph how to clean her new form's scales, since they're so much thicker and larger now, and they'd usually wake up in the morning with someone's tail over another's eyes, or a claw lightly digging into a wing.