Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
07.Oct.12, 09:51 AM
"I see," R'nya responded smoothly when two of his three captivated audience voiced a negative on laying the blame on D'hys. The Wingleader was both pleased, and amused by their dedication to the truth; he hadn't believed the bluerider had posted it. Bluerider D'hys was a lot of things, but he was very rarely completely unreasonable. R'nya did not believe for a moment that whomever decided it would be a good idea to post the rather vivid piece of literature (if it could rightly be called so) would be far more proud of their handy work. It would not take long, to hunt down the author, of that he was sure.
Now, however, R'nya found himself faced with three young people who - while they trembled for the moment - he didn't doubt would develop loose lips once he was truly out of sight. Unfortunately, the bronzerider was also aware that an unknown number of men, women or children could have also seen the sheet of paper before the three young Crafters had happened upon it; then there was D'hys to consider, and his trusty sidekick. Politely being sidestepped as he left the Hatching Circuit was (undoubtedly) going to be the least of his concerns before the night was out.
"I will advise discretion." The wingleader's voice was as smooth as ever, even as an eyebrow arched up slightly and he once more took the time to meet each set of wide eyes. He couldn't keep them from gossiping if they were so inclined, and R'nya had never been one to attempt squishing that bug. The rumour mill at Katila was far too useful - if you remembered to take what was said with a handful of salt. "Brownrider S'kef will be far less pleased than I." R'nya's gaze shifted as he turned to look over his shoulder, aware that he would need to bring S'kef up to speed on the sheet now folded carefully in his pocket - before someone else did.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, miss." Nodding politely to the two young men and the young woman, R'nya took a step backwards before spinning neatly on his booted heel. He had no desire to further question the young men and woman that had been gathered; it was obvious they knew nothing. The young woman was far too timid and properly ladylike to do anything of the sort, and while he could have seen Sanderon doing something in order to target those that had ruined his life, he would have expected him to target those people - not a bronze and brownrider he was probably not even inclined to know the names of off the top of his head.
Walking with a determined step back in the direction he had come, R'nya ordered Xyreith to keep Tyrrisath grounded for the next few minutes, lest S'kef manage to escape before he came across his wingrider. It would not do for someone else to inform the brownrider of what was written on one particularly out of line piece of parchment.
"Brownrider S'kef!" R'nya raised his voice a little as he spotted the rider in question, still lurking on the edge of the Sands with his mate. "We need to speak. Privately." He could tell his mate if he wished, but R'nya would speak to the other man alone, first; he'd not embarrass his wingrider - That would look very unprofessional indeed!
Now, however, R'nya found himself faced with three young people who - while they trembled for the moment - he didn't doubt would develop loose lips once he was truly out of sight. Unfortunately, the bronzerider was also aware that an unknown number of men, women or children could have also seen the sheet of paper before the three young Crafters had happened upon it; then there was D'hys to consider, and his trusty sidekick. Politely being sidestepped as he left the Hatching Circuit was (undoubtedly) going to be the least of his concerns before the night was out.
"I will advise discretion." The wingleader's voice was as smooth as ever, even as an eyebrow arched up slightly and he once more took the time to meet each set of wide eyes. He couldn't keep them from gossiping if they were so inclined, and R'nya had never been one to attempt squishing that bug. The rumour mill at Katila was far too useful - if you remembered to take what was said with a handful of salt. "Brownrider S'kef will be far less pleased than I." R'nya's gaze shifted as he turned to look over his shoulder, aware that he would need to bring S'kef up to speed on the sheet now folded carefully in his pocket - before someone else did.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, miss." Nodding politely to the two young men and the young woman, R'nya took a step backwards before spinning neatly on his booted heel. He had no desire to further question the young men and woman that had been gathered; it was obvious they knew nothing. The young woman was far too timid and properly ladylike to do anything of the sort, and while he could have seen Sanderon doing something in order to target those that had ruined his life, he would have expected him to target those people - not a bronze and brownrider he was probably not even inclined to know the names of off the top of his head.
Walking with a determined step back in the direction he had come, R'nya ordered Xyreith to keep Tyrrisath grounded for the next few minutes, lest S'kef manage to escape before he came across his wingrider. It would not do for someone else to inform the brownrider of what was written on one particularly out of line piece of parchment.
"Brownrider S'kef!" R'nya raised his voice a little as he spotted the rider in question, still lurking on the edge of the Sands with his mate. "We need to speak. Privately." He could tell his mate if he wished, but R'nya would speak to the other man alone, first; he'd not embarrass his wingrider - That would look very unprofessional indeed!
