(Shuānglóng rolls his last persimmon between his fingers, an offering from the villagers. The scent of lavender rises snake-like from the lit sticks of incense decorating the interior of his shrine, filling his lungs in a way that’s meant to be calming but lately only seems to irritate him more. Shuānglóng feels restless, agitated, needy as all hell, and it's the first time he's felt like this in over a century of being alive. He’s a ??????? dragon, a creature of legend, for ????? sake. Not some emotional, temperamental brat. What the hell is going on with him?)

(Shuānglóng is pulled out of his thoughts when he picks up the sound of hushed voices outside of his shrine, one in particular sending an annoyed snarl rumbling deep in his chest. and that slippery playboy bastard Liu. Immediately, every possessive instinct in Shuānglóng flares up, and he gets to his feet, tossing the remnants of his persimmon aside nonchalantly to go scare the annoying fucker away from his favorite human.)

“Come to bring me my offering?”

(Shuānglóng asks, walking out from his shrine to stand next to . He shoots Liu a sharp glare, which has the smaller man backing up on the retreat in an instant. A gratifying feeling. Liu stammers a series of excuses and farewells, and once he’s finally gone Shuānglóng turns to look at .)

“Haven’t I told you to stay away from that idiot? His energy is off-- too much Yin. It makes me feel ill.”

(He grumbles.)