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!
29.Dec.13, 08:59 AM
Retired Master Healer Quennell of Telgar Hold--
Quennell watched the goings on with interest from where he was quietly seated under a large tree, the elderly man’s legs curled around and a book spread across his lap. There were benefits that came with rank and connections, even if those in question were well aged; but like a good wine, Quennell was disinclined to wave off such things. Those names, and his old rank, gave him access not only to the Lord Holder’s library, but gave him the ability to take his favourite tome of the time out into the public gardens for a leisurely read. The warmth of the summer sun and the quiet peaceful nature of the gardens were ideal, and Quennell enjoyed such moments to himself.
The scampering of hurried feet caused the old master’s dark brown eyes to lift slowly from his book, though his head didn’t actually so much as twitch. He watched from under his eyebrows as the youngster dove into some shrubbery – quite clearly with the intent of hiding – and was barely settled in before several of the rich youngsters of the hold courts wandered through. Quennell’s eyebrow arched just slightly but he lowered his attention back to his book as the young men continued on their way. They either didn’t know the other young man was there, or were deigning to royally ignore him. Knowing the ways of young men quite well, Quennell had no doubt that they were actually oblivious.
After he was quite sure they were well on their way, Quennell rose with a grace that belied his seventy-one years (his birthday may not be for another two weeks, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade him the application of the count. He had lived that full year already, had he not?) and carefully placed the heavy book under one arm as he strolled quietly down the path towards where the young man was hidden. He wasn’t expecting the boy to extract himself, but when he did, and with such attitude, Quennell’s lips twisted into a fond, albeit sad, smile as his memory recalled another young man that had conducted himself with such mannerisms.
“Excuse me?” Quennell’s voice was gentle and carried the warmth of someone that had a bedside manner that had been a blessing throughout his career as a full time healer. While Quennell was still – and ever would be – a master ranking Healer, his charity work in the public hospitals of Telgar Hold had caused a bit of a tiff with the Healer Hall. Not that Quennell felt too bad about it; his own funds paid for most of the needs of the little business, and he paid the Healers he hired from the Hall. The misunderstanding had been rectified, when the Hall’s feathers had been settled that Quennell didn’t expect the Journeymen to work for free, even if they were giving their time and effort to those that could not pay with traditional methods.
“Perhaps you could help me, young man?” Quennell had lived in Telgar his entire life; he didn’t need help, he just wanted an excuse to get the youngster to talk to him. Youngsters that ran from bullies were often those most in need of someone to talk to; experiences past had taught him that quite well. “I’m a little on the lonesome side. Perhaps if you’re not busy, you could keep an old man company?”
Quennell watched the goings on with interest from where he was quietly seated under a large tree, the elderly man’s legs curled around and a book spread across his lap. There were benefits that came with rank and connections, even if those in question were well aged; but like a good wine, Quennell was disinclined to wave off such things. Those names, and his old rank, gave him access not only to the Lord Holder’s library, but gave him the ability to take his favourite tome of the time out into the public gardens for a leisurely read. The warmth of the summer sun and the quiet peaceful nature of the gardens were ideal, and Quennell enjoyed such moments to himself.
The scampering of hurried feet caused the old master’s dark brown eyes to lift slowly from his book, though his head didn’t actually so much as twitch. He watched from under his eyebrows as the youngster dove into some shrubbery – quite clearly with the intent of hiding – and was barely settled in before several of the rich youngsters of the hold courts wandered through. Quennell’s eyebrow arched just slightly but he lowered his attention back to his book as the young men continued on their way. They either didn’t know the other young man was there, or were deigning to royally ignore him. Knowing the ways of young men quite well, Quennell had no doubt that they were actually oblivious.
After he was quite sure they were well on their way, Quennell rose with a grace that belied his seventy-one years (his birthday may not be for another two weeks, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade him the application of the count. He had lived that full year already, had he not?) and carefully placed the heavy book under one arm as he strolled quietly down the path towards where the young man was hidden. He wasn’t expecting the boy to extract himself, but when he did, and with such attitude, Quennell’s lips twisted into a fond, albeit sad, smile as his memory recalled another young man that had conducted himself with such mannerisms.
“Excuse me?” Quennell’s voice was gentle and carried the warmth of someone that had a bedside manner that had been a blessing throughout his career as a full time healer. While Quennell was still – and ever would be – a master ranking Healer, his charity work in the public hospitals of Telgar Hold had caused a bit of a tiff with the Healer Hall. Not that Quennell felt too bad about it; his own funds paid for most of the needs of the little business, and he paid the Healers he hired from the Hall. The misunderstanding had been rectified, when the Hall’s feathers had been settled that Quennell didn’t expect the Journeymen to work for free, even if they were giving their time and effort to those that could not pay with traditional methods.
“Perhaps you could help me, young man?” Quennell had lived in Telgar his entire life; he didn’t need help, he just wanted an excuse to get the youngster to talk to him. Youngsters that ran from bullies were often those most in need of someone to talk to; experiences past had taught him that quite well. “I’m a little on the lonesome side. Perhaps if you’re not busy, you could keep an old man company?”
