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Xodiac smiled to himself as he looked around the gallery. The new wing of the Athens Museum of Antiquities had been converted for the night into a sort of banquet hall to celebrate its opening, and it was apparently a popular event. A few hundred people wandered the rooms, getting a look at the new exhibits on display as they nibbled at cheese and fruit and sipped at their wineglasses. Most wore formal or semiformal clothing, but peppered here and there were anthros in replica togas.
Like the one he wore. It was a strange garment, the dragote mused as he popped a square of cheddar into his muzzle. Folded and tucked, with some sort of light shirt or something over it. It was somewhat like a dress, but not quite. It didn't really look like what he imagined when he thought of the word toga, though there were some like that image milling about.
Xodiac marveled that the tour company had managed to procure tickets for their little group. He wasn't sure why they had to be among those playing at being ancient Greeks – unlike in Germany, they weren't filling in as servers this time. He was free to chat and look at the exhibits and the modern architecture as much as he liked, just like anyone else.
A horse sidled up to him, wearing a more stereotypical toga draped around him and carrying a glass of wine. "You look pleased," he ventured.
"Hey, Chathran," Xodiac said. They'd become friends as the group toured Germany and the ruins all over Greece. "It's a nice little party. Good food, too."
"Yeah, it sure is. I'm surprised you're not more upset at what you're wearing, though, like you were at Oktoberfest."
Xodiac grimaced. Every male in that hall had found an excuse to pinch or grope his ass, or so it had seemed. Dirndl or no, he hadn't even looked particularly female! "A toga's weird," he said, "but at least it's not a dress. For once I'm not being forced into drag."
Chathran nickered soft laughter. "What're you talking about? Look around, Xod. Only the ladies are wearing that type. And wearing jewelry, I might add."
The cheese in the dragote's mouth was suddenly bitter. As he looked more closely at the attendees he realized his friend was right. All the men in togas were dressed like Chathran. And the women were dressed like Xodiac. Or, more properly, Xodiac was dressed like the women.
"Well," he sighed, and took a sip of his own wine. "Crap."
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Art by
crazymelimelo. Story by me.
425 words (this part)
Xodiac smiled to himself as he looked around the gallery. The new wing of the Athens Museum of Antiquities had been converted for the night into a sort of banquet hall to celebrate its opening, and it was apparently a popular event. A few hundred people wandered the rooms, getting a look at the new exhibits on display as they nibbled at cheese and fruit and sipped at their wineglasses. Most wore formal or semiformal clothing, but peppered here and there were anthros in replica togas.
Like the one he wore. It was a strange garment, the dragote mused as he popped a square of cheddar into his muzzle. Folded and tucked, with some sort of light shirt or something over it. It was somewhat like a dress, but not quite. It didn't really look like what he imagined when he thought of the word toga, though there were some like that image milling about.
Xodiac marveled that the tour company had managed to procure tickets for their little group. He wasn't sure why they had to be among those playing at being ancient Greeks – unlike in Germany, they weren't filling in as servers this time. He was free to chat and look at the exhibits and the modern architecture as much as he liked, just like anyone else.
A horse sidled up to him, wearing a more stereotypical toga draped around him and carrying a glass of wine. "You look pleased," he ventured.
"Hey, Chathran," Xodiac said. They'd become friends as the group toured Germany and the ruins all over Greece. "It's a nice little party. Good food, too."
"Yeah, it sure is. I'm surprised you're not more upset at what you're wearing, though, like you were at Oktoberfest."
Xodiac grimaced. Every male in that hall had found an excuse to pinch or grope his ass, or so it had seemed. Dirndl or no, he hadn't even looked particularly female! "A toga's weird," he said, "but at least it's not a dress. For once I'm not being forced into drag."
Chathran nickered soft laughter. "What're you talking about? Look around, Xod. Only the ladies are wearing that type. And wearing jewelry, I might add."
The cheese in the dragote's mouth was suddenly bitter. As he looked more closely at the attendees he realized his friend was right. All the men in togas were dressed like Chathran. And the women were dressed like Xodiac. Or, more properly, Xodiac was dressed like the women.
"Well," he sighed, and took a sip of his own wine. "Crap."
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
Art by
crazymelimelo. Story by me.425 words (this part)
Category Artwork (Digital) / Portraits
Species Dragon (Other)
Size 409 x 881px
File Size 161.5 kB
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