One-Leg critiques Greenweave's new shirt.
It was amazing that any niggling itch could make itself felt through the aftermath of the good tumble in the furs and the warmth of dreamberry wine in the gut, but even so, curiosity nibbled at the edge of One-Leg's mind like the stubbornest flea. Springtime celebrations were not a place where one should look overmuch for practicality, One-Leg knew that well, but some things still stood out. The nearly nonexistent shirt hanging off of Greenweave inspired incredulity in the elder, closely followed by a gruff curiosity. That shirt was the most ridiculous thing that he'd seen in quite a few turns of watching pups make fools of themselves, and he had to wonder at what moon-mad idea disguised as inspiration had wormed its way between his tribemate's ears.
Being mellow and night-happy as he was, when the dancing once more wove its way past the log where he sat, One-Leg merely reached out and snagged his quarry by the wrist rather than trip him up with his staff. While the elder's hand was steady, however, his target's feet were not and instead of acquiring a second rump on his log, One-Eye wound up with a lapful of wine-happy Greenweave.
The younger elf blinked once, then laughed.
"What in the name of Owl's cracked nut are you wearing?" One-Leg demanded.
Greenweave laughed again under One-Leg's glare. From the neck up, the weaver was feathers and shiny beads, from the waist down, dark, close trousers and bare feet. It was the middle section that was earning Greenweave the scrutiny of his old teacher's gimlet gaze.
Greenweave plucked at his shirt, grinning. There wasn't much of it, and it resembled nothing more than a fishing net with sleeves.
"Oh, you know. I was weaving a new net for the salmon runs and the idea popped into my head. I thought it would be interesting. What do you think?"
"I think you were out in the sun too long that day."
"Aw." Greenweave lolled his head against One-Leg's shoulder.
"I think you've put in a lot of effort for one night of dancing, when you might as well have gone bare-chested." One-Leg snorted quietly as Greenweave, his drunkeness keeping him pleasantly insulated from any sting the criticism might have had, reached up to toy with his face-fur. "What good is that shirt going to do you after tonight? You can't even fish with it."
Whatever answer Greenweave might have had was lost in a yip of surprise as a pair of strong hands tangled in the loose weave of his shirt and snagged him from One-Leg's lap... well... like a netted fish.
Cloudfern grinned down at One-Leg from over Greenweave's shoulder, arms wrapped around his lovemate. The plantshaper's expression was all eager anticipation, his eyes glinting fire and starlight.
"Excuse us, One-Leg. I need to borrow him for a while."
Or so his lips said. His posture was more plain: "Mine. Not sharing."
The elder harumphed and waved them both away, his face-fur hiding well the half-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as Greenweave was half-lead, half-hauled away.
"I'll make you one, if you want," Greenweave called over his shoulder. "Or one for Starskimmer...?"
"I've never needed a net to catch a furmate and I'll be skinned if I'm going to start now!" One-Leg fired back.
The laughter that answered him blended with the merriment of the celebration before fading away into the waning night.