"What I feel is not up for public discussion, young one." T'vor told the little dragon. He looked over at Anuriel. "Perhaps. I just hope that my Lord can keep his temper under control with her. The two of them butting heads...could be disasterous, to say the least." He said.

Satisfied that the princess was sleeping, Sephiroth returned to the tent.
"Your hair." T'vor gestured. One thin strand of hair at his forehead was considerably darker than the rest of it.
"...Figures." Sephiroth replied, lifting it in front of his eyes to look at. "But never mind that. I myself could do with a drink as well...but just one."

"You're in luck." T'vor replied, pulling from his trunk a bottle of some sort of alcohol. It was black in color. "I happen to have something on hand."

"Oh no, is that the hell-spawned poison you dragon riders are so fond of?" Sephiroth made a face.

T'vor shrugged. "I'll drink it by myself then. Or would Anuriel like to try it? Beware, it is certainly not something for the faint of heart like Sephiroth here." T'vor offered the liquor of dubious content to the lady.

"Ugh, I'll regret this..." Sephiroth muttered, but sat himself down on the ground beside the dragons. "Fine then, give me your acid fire." He told the taller man, who also sat on the floor facing him. T'vor handed him the bottle.

Sephiroth took a gulp with a disgusted look before wordlessly handing it to Anuriel.
"Gods, that's foul." He coughed.