#heinous love language they have here :soft_smile:

[rafent]

"Now isn't this something," Griss says in lieu of a greeting, catching the dragon as they disperse from the clearing and its strange performance before he can slip away again. "Looks like we're on different teams."

Plucking proudly at the green cloth collared around his neck, he nods at the blue one that Lord Rafal wound up with. Where others - knights or otherwise - might be disappointed to find themselves separated from their lord by some flimsy, arbitrary allegiance, Griss looks all too excited about this turn of events. His lord might very well have guessed why already.

"You know what that means, right?" He can barely contain himself. "So you better not hold back when it comes time to lay on the punishment, got it?" Sliding a little closer, grinning fangs just a lunge away from the other's neck, he giggles into his ear. But instead of some profound secret, he just pulls back again and keeps walking with his fingers laced behind his head.

"Oh yeah, do you know how to sleep with your eyes open?" A pause and a glance back.

"I do." Suddenly, he bursts into laughter. "Alright, see ya, Lord Rafal!"

Before long, he found what he was looking for; namely, in the knight who found him first. That an unknowing Rafal was 'intercepted' by Griss was mere illusion. A mendacious idea with the truthful underbelly turned from sight. Reality instead to produce that he'd waited, caught the view of insidious blacks and greys, his memorable green, and lingered - ever so slightly - within range until this very conversation could occur. Exactly as looked, desired, and waited for.

. . .Even if their differing allegiances did not go comparatively as expected. "How heartbreaking such news. I am certain to cry myself to sleep for every second we are apart." Silent surprise surrendered to drawled mockery, and then without perception: curious disappointment. An uncertain contrast to that openly worn glee.

Why ever should two different colored scarves prove cause for his consternation? He who was untouchable against all else; he who weathered far worse? The theory was beyond outlandish, of course, the cause beyond childish. But at least it was easy to rebound. To disdain that strange pollution of sense and take what was cleaner. Offered plainly. Even an overture as misshapen as snapping fangs within reach of throat, even a menacing voice that could never let spill reassurances over blood and violent delights. Fine alternatives, both.

"Heh. A senseless request. I do not recall holding back before, and I do not intend to start now. And let us be clear—if that is a threat, Griss, you know to do better." Not even a flinch as the threat of teeth should pull away, peeks of glittering eyes retracted with them. Only a tickle where warm breath had been; only the partial turn of head as Rafal watched him go, ringing with laughter. And that was the end.

Footsteps carried him forward in the consummation of two diverging paths. They would meet again. Soft-hearted affirmations weren't needed for that.