Jan. 15th, 2012

sythyry: (sythyry-doomed)

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Arfaen and I are married, but we are not very married. We generally spend the eighth night of every week together, unless, for some reason, we don’t.

So, on the 16th, I realized what time it was, rather later than I should have realized, and got out a special arrow, and teleported right in front of the door to my wife’s bedroom. Teleporting into her bedroom can be a startlement, and a startlement can lead to bandaging her head if she bashes it when she jumps in surprise, which is not a good way to start the eighth night of the week if you know what I mean which I hope you do for I don’t want to explain.

I was rather surprised to hear Arfaen barking and warbling in a particular special kind of happiness on the other side of the door. Not that I expect the least bit of exclusivity or monogamy from her … actually, I do expect it, on the eighth night of the week, unless we’ve decided otherwise.

So I poked my head in the door to see what was up, and, e.g., if Arfaen had brought home a nice Orren for us to share, which she does on occasion because she knows I like them better than I like Cani, and I never pick them up on my own.

I was extremely surprised to find her bouncing up and down joyously on top of a quite naked Chiver.

I sat on my haunches and considered my options. I could, I suppose, be offended that she had forgotten our night together. Or, if she was planning to share, that she (a) had gotten started without me and (b) not asked me if I was in that mood. Or, I could be offended and/or astounded that she was mating with another Cani, which she has not done voluntarily ever in her life. Or perhaps, since it was a he-Cani, she was planning to have another puppy. Or …

“Hi, Sythyry!” Arfaen warbled. “Oh! Could you be a dear and put a contraceptive spell on me? I forgot I’d need that.”

Not that last one, I realized! So, I was a dear, and put a contraceptive spell on her, feather-casting it. And, as I am a patient sort of person (or not in a hurry for the discussion) and I like the way my wife looks, I crouched on a table and watched them. (Of course they don’t mind. Cani are more comfortable doing that sort of thing with a whole family around.)

Afterwards, when she and Chiver were wiping themselves off a bit, she asked me, “And what brings you here tonight, O my zpouse?”

“Didn’t we have plans for tonight, O my wife?”

Arfaen got a terribly worried look on her face, and dashed over to peer at her calendar. “If we did, I didn’t write them down.”

“It’s the eighth day of the week,” I said.

“No, that’s tomorrow. Today’s the sixteenth, making it the seventh night of the week,” she said.

I puffed up my feathers. “I am a mighty time wizard! The mysteries of Tempador magic are … um …” I looked at her calendar. “… completely over my head sometimes. Today’s the sixteenth. It’s the seventh night of the week, and you are being utterly faithful to our vows and our scheduling both. I am a bit curious though…”

Arfaen looked at me, and looked at Chiver. “Still, this is an interesting situation. I think I need to make us an interpretive snack.”

sythyry: (sythyry-doomed)

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Arfaen and I are married, but we are not very married. We generally spend the eighth night of every week together, unless, for some reason, we don’t.

So, on the 16th, I realized what time it was, rather later than I should have realized, and got out a special arrow, and teleported right in front of the door to my wife’s bedroom. Teleporting into her bedroom can be a startlement, and a startlement can lead to bandaging her head if she bashes it when she jumps in surprise, which is not a good way to start the eighth night of the week if you know what I mean which I hope you do for I don’t want to explain.

I was rather surprised to hear Arfaen barking and warbling in a particular special kind of happiness on the other side of the door. Not that I expect the least bit of exclusivity or monogamy from her … actually, I do expect it, on the eighth night of the week, unless we’ve decided otherwise.

So I poked my head in the door to see what was up, and, e.g., if Arfaen had brought home a nice Orren for us to share, which she does on occasion because she knows I like them better than I like Cani, and I never pick them up on my own.

I was extremely surprised to find her bouncing up and down joyously on top of a quite naked Chiver.

I sat on my haunches and considered my options. I could, I suppose, be offended that she had forgotten our night together. Or, if she was planning to share, that she (a) had gotten started without me and (b) not asked me if I was in that mood. Or, I could be offended and/or astounded that she was mating with another Cani, which she has not done voluntarily ever in her life. Or perhaps, since it was a he-Cani, she was planning to have another puppy. Or …

“Hi, Sythyry!” Arfaen warbled. “Oh! Could you be a dear and put a contraceptive spell on me? I forgot I’d need that.”

Not that last one, I realized! So, I was a dear, and put a contraceptive spell on her, feather-casting it. And, as I am a patient sort of person (or not in a hurry for the discussion) and I like the way my wife looks, I crouched on a table and watched them. (Of course they don’t mind. Cani are more comfortable doing that sort of thing with a whole family around.)

Afterwards, when she and Chiver were wiping themselves off a bit, she asked me, “And what brings you here tonight, O my zpouse?”

“Didn’t we have plans for tonight, O my wife?”

Arfaen got a terribly worried look on her face, and dashed over to peer at her calendar. “If we did, I didn’t write them down.”

“It’s the eighth day of the week,” I said.

“No, that’s tomorrow. Today’s the sixteenth, making it the seventh night of the week,” she said.

I puffed up my feathers. “I am a mighty time wizard! The mysteries of Tempador magic are … um …” I looked at her calendar. “… completely over my head sometimes. Today’s the sixteenth. It’s the seventh night of the week, and you are being utterly faithful to our vows and our scheduling both. I am a bit curious though…”

Arfaen looked at me, and looked at Chiver. “Still, this is an interesting situation. I think I need to make us an interpretive snack.”

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