#074 - Playful
I imagine it's something like the mating dance of a bumblebee...
Except wasps don't do that ._.
Oh well.
Playful
Waspinator was fast.
Inferno hadn’t realized just how fast until they went out for a casual fly one evening.
He liked to zip ahead, rolling through the twilight and vanishing from Inferno’s line of sight. The ant wasn’t afraid of losing his partner; he could track him easily, if he wanted, and, anyway, he would easily be able to tell if Waspinator got into any trouble.
No, it was more bothersome than anything else. Waspinator would flit in from nowhere, poking Inferno playfully. Or he would drop down from behind and try to scare him (though it didn’t work), radiating mischief laced with little spikes of self-satisfaction. He giggled and hummed and buzzed, flirting in his own quirky, lighthearted way, and Inferno just…failed to understand.
Inferno cocked his head, perplexed, watching as Waspinator sped ahead of him again, rolling upside down and flying backwards. His face wasn’t expressive enough to show it, but he was smiling; Inferno could feel it.
He couldn’t figure it out; he didn’t understand the signals his mate was sending. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it and the teasing, good-natured feelings were all but foreign to the ant.
As they headed back towards the Colony, the wasp’s oblivious humming drifted through the sky, filtering through Inferno’s audio receptors and processing as too cheerful a sound, and he growled a little in annoyance.
He supposed it was possible that Waspinator just liked to confuse him.
Except wasps don't do that ._.
Oh well.
Playful
Waspinator was fast.
Inferno hadn’t realized just how fast until they went out for a casual fly one evening.
He liked to zip ahead, rolling through the twilight and vanishing from Inferno’s line of sight. The ant wasn’t afraid of losing his partner; he could track him easily, if he wanted, and, anyway, he would easily be able to tell if Waspinator got into any trouble.
No, it was more bothersome than anything else. Waspinator would flit in from nowhere, poking Inferno playfully. Or he would drop down from behind and try to scare him (though it didn’t work), radiating mischief laced with little spikes of self-satisfaction. He giggled and hummed and buzzed, flirting in his own quirky, lighthearted way, and Inferno just…failed to understand.
Inferno cocked his head, perplexed, watching as Waspinator sped ahead of him again, rolling upside down and flying backwards. His face wasn’t expressive enough to show it, but he was smiling; Inferno could feel it.
He couldn’t figure it out; he didn’t understand the signals his mate was sending. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it and the teasing, good-natured feelings were all but foreign to the ant.
As they headed back towards the Colony, the wasp’s oblivious humming drifted through the sky, filtering through Inferno’s audio receptors and processing as too cheerful a sound, and he growled a little in annoyance.
He supposed it was possible that Waspinator just liked to confuse him.