![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
27_53[Following this thread with Kreyu. Adult content warning in link!]
Skellig and Katya had wandered their separate ways at some point during the celebrations for the Lunar New Year, and while there are still decorations and a festive air remains in the Bar proper, Skellig is making his way back to the room upstairs that he shares with Katya while they are not in their apartment in his world.
He is not bothering to wear a shirt; dressed in only his jeans, his coat is draped over one arm. He left his boots and socks on Kreyu's floor (with the 'promise' to return for them later) and his bare feet pad quietly through the halls - he is practically floating - humming under his breath as he traverses the distance from Kreyu's room to his own.
A few patrons stare, but he doesn't care.
Once he's unlocked their door (the wards twitch against the back of his neck when he passes through the entrance, he's probably setting off alarm bells left and right) he steps inside and shuts it silently behind him. He's not sure if she's here or if she's elsewhere, and since they're both 'nocturnal', she could be asleep.
A shower is a consideration. So is food. His wings are a mess (Kreyu helped him preen a bit before he left, but they still need work) and so is his hair; there is set of claw marks on the back of his neck where blood has been drawn, and an impressive bite-shaped bruise on the side of his throat. He's radiating positive energy and Karma and power, and if Katya is nearby, she'll be able to pick up on the scent of Kreyu, of dragon magic, of sweat, blood, and sex on Skellig's skin.
For now, the couch seems like a good option. He sprawls out on it on his stomach, wings lightly tucked against his back, still very much 'drunk'. He really wants a cigarette, but they are so far away. Maybe another nap.
He is the absolute picture of 'look what the cat dragged in'.
Year of the Dragon, indeed.
His Tiger might have some thoughts about what he's been up to.
Skellig and Katya had wandered their separate ways at some point during the celebrations for the Lunar New Year, and while there are still decorations and a festive air remains in the Bar proper, Skellig is making his way back to the room upstairs that he shares with Katya while they are not in their apartment in his world.
He is not bothering to wear a shirt; dressed in only his jeans, his coat is draped over one arm. He left his boots and socks on Kreyu's floor (with the 'promise' to return for them later) and his bare feet pad quietly through the halls - he is practically floating - humming under his breath as he traverses the distance from Kreyu's room to his own.
A few patrons stare, but he doesn't care.
Once he's unlocked their door (the wards twitch against the back of his neck when he passes through the entrance, he's probably setting off alarm bells left and right) he steps inside and shuts it silently behind him. He's not sure if she's here or if she's elsewhere, and since they're both 'nocturnal', she could be asleep.
A shower is a consideration. So is food. His wings are a mess (Kreyu helped him preen a bit before he left, but they still need work) and so is his hair; there is set of claw marks on the back of his neck where blood has been drawn, and an impressive bite-shaped bruise on the side of his throat. He's radiating positive energy and Karma and power, and if Katya is nearby, she'll be able to pick up on the scent of Kreyu, of dragon magic, of sweat, blood, and sex on Skellig's skin.
For now, the couch seems like a good option. He sprawls out on it on his stomach, wings lightly tucked against his back, still very much 'drunk'. He really wants a cigarette, but they are so far away. Maybe another nap.
He is the absolute picture of 'look what the cat dragged in'.
Year of the Dragon, indeed.
His Tiger might have some thoughts about what he's been up to.
no subject
Date: 2024-02-28 07:03 am (UTC)While the couch might not be strong enough to support her tiger-self, it is more than enough to support a man with hollow bones. Skellig flops back down, burying his face into the pillow with a groan.
He is less dizzy this way, with his eyes closed. This is better, even with her efforts to the contrary. His hearing is still heightened from before, so he can hear every ridge her teeth graze, every groove she digs into the bone.
"I had wondered where that came from."