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!
23.Apr.13, 02:23 PM
Snappishly, Armath rejoined, Noise-making is an art. With a sassy turn, he loudly projected, Besuuuuuuuulth, my almond princeling, where are you? I long for your luscious company, your dulcet tones, your enormous girth. Sagging melodramatically in his hollow, Armath awaited the arrival of his fellow brown with an air of desperate sorrow. He peeped at the riders waggishly.
You're terrible, sighed M'din, questioning how a dragon as large as Besulth would take to being called an "almond princeling". He had never been formally introduced to C'vir or Besulth before today, but it was perfectly characteristic for Armath to summon the younger dragon as if they'd hatched from the same clutch. Hopefully, if only for Armath's near-term success, Besulth wouldn't be as obdurate as many of the other browns.
M'din smiled as C'vir gestured to his hut's door. "Oh, thank you! Come on in." He apologized, "It's not very clean right now, but I can shuffle some clothes around and find you a seat." The bearded man gathered the abandoned clumps of brightly colored fabric into his arms, shoving them haphazardly from his main room into a corner beside his bed. He dragged a second wooden chair across the floor to C'vir as he said, "Normally, my children like to help me clean up because we make it a race. Or sometimes, if we're lucky, we can fit all six of us inside at once to read stories, but Armath get jealous and shoves his head in the door."
It's chaperoning, not jealousy, Armath muttered to C'vir.
The young man looked decidedly uncomfortable with his surroundings, perhaps defaulting to aloofness in a foreign situation. Again recalling images of his older sister, M'din wondered if C'vir had the same cleanliness tic that Khindra did. She could scold his untidiness for days if the mood suited her, and had largely been responsible for instituting the clean-up-daddy's-hut parties with his progeny. He smoothed down his rumpled clothing self-consciously.
"Feel free to look at the bookshelves if you want," said M'din, clearing his throat. He grabbed a fuzzy flitt doll from beneath the table, ragged from turns of being carried by his daughters, and propped it up happily next to a jug of water. The stuffed green flitt smiled back at him, tail wrapped around the base of the pitcher. "I have lots of books," he added proudly, "Thirty-two of them, actually, but two are loaned out right now." M'din never lost count of his books; they were too precious of a commodity at Katila to be careless, and his tiny library was his most prized possession.
He sat heavily in the creaking chair, brushing back his bangs. C'vir's piercing blue eyes stared at him from above sharp cheekbones, and M'din swiftly decided that the younger rider was likely starving to death. "I also have some food in the kitchen if you're hungry. My son- well, my oldest son," M'din clarified before ticking off his thick fingers, "made some sweetcakes, a berry mix, a baked meat casser--"
Oh joy, joy, joy unspeakable, Armath cried, cutting off M'din's laundry list of brunch options. My savior has arrived.
You're terrible, sighed M'din, questioning how a dragon as large as Besulth would take to being called an "almond princeling". He had never been formally introduced to C'vir or Besulth before today, but it was perfectly characteristic for Armath to summon the younger dragon as if they'd hatched from the same clutch. Hopefully, if only for Armath's near-term success, Besulth wouldn't be as obdurate as many of the other browns.
M'din smiled as C'vir gestured to his hut's door. "Oh, thank you! Come on in." He apologized, "It's not very clean right now, but I can shuffle some clothes around and find you a seat." The bearded man gathered the abandoned clumps of brightly colored fabric into his arms, shoving them haphazardly from his main room into a corner beside his bed. He dragged a second wooden chair across the floor to C'vir as he said, "Normally, my children like to help me clean up because we make it a race. Or sometimes, if we're lucky, we can fit all six of us inside at once to read stories, but Armath get jealous and shoves his head in the door."
The young man looked decidedly uncomfortable with his surroundings, perhaps defaulting to aloofness in a foreign situation. Again recalling images of his older sister, M'din wondered if C'vir had the same cleanliness tic that Khindra did. She could scold his untidiness for days if the mood suited her, and had largely been responsible for instituting the clean-up-daddy's-hut parties with his progeny. He smoothed down his rumpled clothing self-consciously.
"Feel free to look at the bookshelves if you want," said M'din, clearing his throat. He grabbed a fuzzy flitt doll from beneath the table, ragged from turns of being carried by his daughters, and propped it up happily next to a jug of water. The stuffed green flitt smiled back at him, tail wrapped around the base of the pitcher. "I have lots of books," he added proudly, "Thirty-two of them, actually, but two are loaned out right now." M'din never lost count of his books; they were too precious of a commodity at Katila to be careless, and his tiny library was his most prized possession.
He sat heavily in the creaking chair, brushing back his bangs. C'vir's piercing blue eyes stared at him from above sharp cheekbones, and M'din swiftly decided that the younger rider was likely starving to death. "I also have some food in the kitchen if you're hungry. My son- well, my oldest son," M'din clarified before ticking off his thick fingers, "made some sweetcakes, a berry mix, a baked meat casser--"
