Killing the Cliche (Atroxa and Myself)

Calarel jumped visibly when the dragon spoke, though to her chagrin all that seemed to do was make her breasts bounce in a provocative manner, so to remedy the situation she quickly grabbed up the blanket, wrapping herself in it again. Her face was bright red, even redder than her hair, as she glared at Tossik, her hands pulling the blanket almost up to her neck in an attempt to hide as much as possible. “Yes, I was, now if you'll please give me some privacy, I'd like to get dressed,” she snapped at him, very clearly embarrassed and agitated. Really, she had no idea if the dragon would have any interest in her, it had crossed her mind but only briefly, it seemed a bit outlandish in her opinion, so at this point it was more the principle of the matter. Calarel might think differently than most noblewomen but she had still been raised to view immodesty with disdain.

Try as she might, there was still a large part of her that was dictated by the society she had been raised in and it's morality. Letting a man, no matter his species apparently, see her naked just felt wrong, and she certainly dislike being sneaked up on like that. She was grateful to Tossik for not letting that fat, stupid knight have her, but that didn't mean she was necessarily fond of him, nor did it mean he had any claim to her either, if that was he was after.