He simply stared at her.
The Amadician had never seen someone laugh quite so hard or quite so hysterically of their own volition. The doveling was turning an interesting shade of red, dotted through with mottled pinks. Creator above, there were actual tears leaking out of her eyes!
With as much dignity as he could muster, Zeen very slowly ran his hands through his hair, seeking fingers combing upwards. His brows lowered as he brought them down in front of his face, grey eyes glaring at the thin sections of grass adhering to his skin.
“I did not do anything,” he retorted hotly over the gales of Avyra’s laughter. “You did. I was merely trying to get away.” He grumbled a few more choice phrases under his breath, rapidly passing his hands through his hair, back and forth, before he realized that the effort was futile. He could not see where the blasted pieces of plantlife were. And she was adorable; the sneeze had merely confirmed that fact for him, but he wisely said nothing, watching the Accepted warily instead.
It was difficult to hang onto his annoyance in the face of such unrestrained joy, especially when she was very clearly having such a good laugh. At his expense, but he felt himself softening. He shook his head a little at himself. Zeen squared his shoulders. She was not forgiven yet.
“I am not going to kill you. But I am going to dangle you upside down by one foot until the sun sets if you do not come and pick this grass out of my hair this instant,” he informed her grumpily, the broad man settling down cross-legged on the ground. “And Light help me, if you tickle me again, Avyra Moeryr, I will set your dress on fire.”
The Amadician had never seen someone laugh quite so hard or quite so hysterically of their own volition. The doveling was turning an interesting shade of red, dotted through with mottled pinks. Creator above, there were actual tears leaking out of her eyes!
With as much dignity as he could muster, Zeen very slowly ran his hands through his hair, seeking fingers combing upwards. His brows lowered as he brought them down in front of his face, grey eyes glaring at the thin sections of grass adhering to his skin.
“I did not do anything,” he retorted hotly over the gales of Avyra’s laughter. “You did. I was merely trying to get away.” He grumbled a few more choice phrases under his breath, rapidly passing his hands through his hair, back and forth, before he realized that the effort was futile. He could not see where the blasted pieces of plantlife were. And she was adorable; the sneeze had merely confirmed that fact for him, but he wisely said nothing, watching the Accepted warily instead.
It was difficult to hang onto his annoyance in the face of such unrestrained joy, especially when she was very clearly having such a good laugh. At his expense, but he felt himself softening. He shook his head a little at himself. Zeen squared his shoulders. She was not forgiven yet.
“I am not going to kill you. But I am going to dangle you upside down by one foot until the sun sets if you do not come and pick this grass out of my hair this instant,” he informed her grumpily, the broad man settling down cross-legged on the ground. “And Light help me, if you tickle me again, Avyra Moeryr, I will set your dress on fire.”