something out of a dream - Printable Version

It's a remarkably normal afternoon. No giant crystals in the middle of the room, no dragons interrupting them, just the two of them as Yvan sprawls across Ryoto's chest.

It's occurred to him by this point that they've never even exchanged names. He's fine not knowing it; they don't really need to share them, do they? It's his friend. He doesn't need a name for it. It's not like he'll forget it any time soon.

Stretching out, Yvan heaves a mighty sigh as he rolls over, tail thunking on the forest floor. Its arm is right in view. Oh, how tempting it is to mess with it— but he stays his ground for now, humming and squeezing his eyes shut with force. He's tired of relaxing. Too much energy's welled up in him, and he grumbles as he pulls himself up Ryoto's stomach to get a good look eye-to-eye.

"I'm bored." He reaches up to hold onto one of its horns, his touch light. "Let's do something." All in that unaffected tone of his, as well.

Names are a courtesy unknown to Ryoto; though, Yvan may as well be known by something like "Hey", "You" or even the sound of a sharp whistle, once Ryoto had puzzled out how to make such a noise. Hardly anyone else exists in its general sphere of being, so it's just so utterly unimportant to know at all.

Same as it's so utterly unimportant to really do anything at all— and yet, here Yvan lies: "I'm bored."

Ryoto makes a show of tossing its head, grumbling listlessly. The slight quirk of its lips says otherwise about any true disgruntlement or effort to free its budding horns from Yvan's clawed grasp. It sprawls further in the grass, stretching in place and threatening to turn onto its side and dump the other down onto it.

Peering up at him through a half-closed eye, the dragon mumbles, "So comfy, though…"

Yvan's grumbling is obvious. 'Too bad!' His frown etches deeper as he lets go, shoves his front half up a little and fixates thinning pupils onto it.

"Come on. Aren't you tired of doing nothing all day? I wanna do something. I'm bored," he reiterates. A smooth palm raises to grab at its cheek, to tug lightly on its jowls as he glares down at it. "C'mon. Get up. Or I'll bite you."

Not a very effective argument, because he's certainly not going to harm a hair on its head.

The th-thwap! of its tail veers straight into the realm of the playful when Yvan makes the unfortunate decisions to: a.) Put into mind the idea of biting; and, b.) Leave his hand within range of such a disgrace. Ryoto growls softly as it executes the kill order and nips at a smooth-scaled wrist.

In the same breath, it fully commits to its efforts to roll onto its side— and shoves itself the rest of the way in a, frankly, lazy grab at trapping Yvan underneath it. It's sure that it'll succeed in no capacity there, but…

Ryoto heaves a great sigh, a veritable mountain of hair and rather much like a deeply-affected dog. "Mm, bite mmme then. … I like sleeping 'n doin' nothin'..." Especially with all of the eating and growing that it's had to do lately…

Yvan's hand flicks away at the nip with an indignant "hey!" on his lips. It easily traps him under itself; and Yvan squirms for dear life, shoving without any strength behind it on his captor's shoulders. "Well don't fall asleep on me!" His tail flails this way and that as his back feet pedal in the air.

Either hand goes set upon its shoulders as he rises to the bait and tries to bite into its neck. Of course there's nothing to get but mane— and Yvan pulls away with a mighty "blech!" as he drags a hand over his tongue. Damn his grooming capabilities, because hair's stuck in his mouth and he squirms and bares his teeth at the offending fur lingering.

"At least fight back..!"

There is absolutely zero pacific intent in the way that Ryoto stretches its arms and legs once more— the former far from Yvan's head and making any effort to stop his struggling. It's a completely languid gesture, given that that fluffy mane of its completes its evolutionary, God-given purpose and leaves it barely feeling the "murder" attempt.

Chunky baby fangs bare in a sleepy grin as it shoves itself back onto its back and therefore frees poor Yvan from his confinement. "Don' need t'fight back... You jus' lose anyway."

As if it'd not just woken up from a nap, then, it huffs and mumbles out, "Can do stuff later..." The pangolin scales of its tail catch on every possible blade of grass as it strives to curl up into a tired, impenetrable ball of hide and hair.

" 'm not gonna lose." He very well could with Ryoto's weight, but it's the thought that counts. Freeing him just means he rolls on top of it and perches with his paws on either side of it. "Come on. Now you're just being unfair."

Yvan's enjoying the challenge as Ryoto balls up, sidestepping off of it and staring as it becomes a dragony armadillo. He dives in for it— hands struggle to catch under his armpits, and he strains to lug the beast upward with a strained "Get up!" All four paws dig into the dirt as he drags it backward in an attempt to break those defenses. He huffs and puffs the whole time, tail whipping around as he stops pulling just to take a breath.

"And stop being so heavy. 'm gonna shave you. Especially if you don't get up."

"Unfair" is hardly a familiar word to Ryoto. Not when it's perfectly content and in its lane being as rotund as it is; it could've fallen asleep the second its tail was situated between its horns and nearly completing a full loop around its body.

What is unfair, though, is the utter inability to avoid squirming and loosening up when Yvan's hands worm their way beneath its armpits. A breathy, startled laugh escapes it, biceps pinching in tighter to its flanks just to keep the feeling of his palms skimming and inducing a tingly feeling across its whole body from happening again. A leg kicks out briefly, a vulnerability in the shell— and is tucked right back in.

"Don' even have anything to shave me wiiiith," Ryoto laments, too-loud and all dramatics.

"I'll... do it! I swear!" His arms are trapped as he returns to his losing fight.

Ah, but it's ticklish, is it? At least his grip has seemed to work, and he works his fingers again to itch in lightly as he hefts its body to his legs. "I'll burn off your hair so neither of us can have it. C'mon, I'm serious..!" Paws continue to pedal backwards as he aimed for a tree. "It's that or I throw you in a river!"

He almost doesn't want Ryoto to let up. This is fun itself, just trying to get it to come out of its shell, legging it around like he's some kind of bodybuilder. Not that he'd ever admit that, no; why would he spoil the game they've come up with?

How is a ryoto meant to sleep in these conditions? Forced to squeal in ticklish surprise and unravel in a show of miraculous weakness? Forced into delighted wakefulness despite its best efforts to enable that inner urge to dead-sleep and hibernate even more after a big meal?

... not as terrible as it'd imagined.

"That'd be s-so mean... !" It can't help but to laugh as claws itch in; to twist around like an unscruffed cat and go tumbling away into a sort of... panda roll into another ball. In this one, it lands on its back, tail more visible than any sort of fuzz. That'll show Yvan—