Roroku and Gyovanth
Roroku crept into the hangar she shared with Gyovanth, and fussed around a bit. In moments, Gyovanth swatted the door open with his tail, and stomped in. “Eighteen days my wife is away! Eighteen days free from her stupid mistakes and petty whining, to be sure. But eighteen days without access to her claspers! Am I a drake or an antelope, to wait so long? And instead of coming directly to me, she stops here to inspect her hoard! As if anyone in base camp would dare so much as glance at it, since it is my hoard and I am a proper dragon about its defense! Now shut your muzzle and raise your tail, or it will be worse for you!”
“That I will not,” said Roroku.
“There is a ridiculous rumor going around that you are working out some sort of legal separation from me,” noted Gyovanth. “I do not know how this rumor got started. But I will hold it against you unless you prove to me that it is false. And, since your mind cannot frame such a rational discourse, your vulva must speak for you. Stand and present!”
“That I will not,” said Roroku.
He loomed at her, half-spreading his wings, blocking her in the back half of the hangar. “That you must do!” he hissed.
Roroku was not quite brave enough to breathe in his face — for one thing, he knew her combat style far too well. Instead she burned out the back wall of the hangar, and scratched the sky to make her escape. Gyovanth was a dragon, and therefore greedy given to long-term thinking, so he took several minutes to sort through the burnt wreckage of their shared hoard, enumerate the magic rings that Roroku had taken, and fume about how she was going to have to repay that insult.
Support this project! Show that you’re reading it by exchanging notes with the
characters, other readers, the writer, and occasional other entities at
sythyry.livejournal.com. And/or buy Bard Bloom’s books on Amazon,
especially Mating
Flight
and World
in My Claws, the prequel to this story.
Also: Glossary
and Dramatis Personae.