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!
13.Jul.13, 05:45 PM
Interesting? Fucking interesting is all I get for wasting my time on this bitch's family tree? Warkhim stared open-mouthed at the brunette in his study, fingers splayed wide atop the desk. If he'd told anyone else in Telgar, literally anyone else, they'd be shitting themselves at the prospect of being distantly related to the Lord Holder. Not two months earlier some moronic trollop in a gaudy dress she couldn't afford had come to Derrigan claiming she was a great-niece of his, and Warkhim knew for a fact that her bloodline was even more tenuous and lowborn than Kira's.
He licked his lips. "Your reaction to this news is underwhelming, Kira. Perhaps you don't fully understand the magnitude of the situation. With a husband of well-bred stock, you and your children would regain the Telgarian title. With some good planning and breeding, your grandchildren could be heirs to the Telgarian family." Warkhim gracefully neglected to mention that it would likely take several hundred deaths in the current family, and a woman with more social ambitions than Kira actually possessed to make that plausibly happen. She seemed to lack any desire to use her mother's ancestors to her benefit, and the Archivist slowly began to wonder if she wasn't as intelligent as he initially hoped. After glancing again at book, Warkhim though, What a waste. This one can actually read. So many squandered advantages. That Kira had no motivation to improve her standing in life was a huge disappointment to Warkhim. He briefly considered that she might need more heavy-handed guidance, and lightly added, "Were you to marry lesser cousin or nephew, or even a Lord of the minor holds, it would mean wealth and respect for your family. Moran would never have to work another day in his life, nor your siblings unless they chose to pursue a craft."
Suddenly she rose, curtseying (poorly) before stuttering a weak goodbye. She'd only just arrived, and Kira was already trying to sneak away. What a fool! Little ingrate! Warkhim had given her life-changing news served up on a silver platter, followed by explicit directions to claim a seat of power, and the drudge was scurrying away like none of it had happened!
"Oh no, Kira. Sit down." He jerked his long index finger down to the desk with a thump, brown eyes staring penetratingly into her skull. "I have much more to tell you." Warkhim had played nicely, he'd been polite and helpful and hadn't once diminished her pathetic existence. But the time for niceties was over, and Kira was long overdue to learn her place. Or, at least, learn of the other places her beloved fiancee had been.
"When you told me about Falon, the name piqued my curiosity, and I recalled that I'd come across him more than once in my studies." Deftly sweeping away the Telgarian blood line scrolls and associated encyclopedia to their respective drawers, Warkhim sniffed delicately. He rifled through the bookshelves behind him, pulling out one of the lowborn annals and flipping to a well-inked page. He pointed to Falon's line with a knowing smile, and chuckled, "You didn't tell me he was a father." Lowering his voice, he wickedly murmured, "He has a little girl named Faellin. She's three or so now."
He licked his lips. "Your reaction to this news is underwhelming, Kira. Perhaps you don't fully understand the magnitude of the situation. With a husband of well-bred stock, you and your children would regain the Telgarian title. With some good planning and breeding, your grandchildren could be heirs to the Telgarian family." Warkhim gracefully neglected to mention that it would likely take several hundred deaths in the current family, and a woman with more social ambitions than Kira actually possessed to make that plausibly happen. She seemed to lack any desire to use her mother's ancestors to her benefit, and the Archivist slowly began to wonder if she wasn't as intelligent as he initially hoped. After glancing again at book, Warkhim though, What a waste. This one can actually read. So many squandered advantages. That Kira had no motivation to improve her standing in life was a huge disappointment to Warkhim. He briefly considered that she might need more heavy-handed guidance, and lightly added, "Were you to marry lesser cousin or nephew, or even a Lord of the minor holds, it would mean wealth and respect for your family. Moran would never have to work another day in his life, nor your siblings unless they chose to pursue a craft."
Suddenly she rose, curtseying (poorly) before stuttering a weak goodbye. She'd only just arrived, and Kira was already trying to sneak away. What a fool! Little ingrate! Warkhim had given her life-changing news served up on a silver platter, followed by explicit directions to claim a seat of power, and the drudge was scurrying away like none of it had happened!
"Oh no, Kira. Sit down." He jerked his long index finger down to the desk with a thump, brown eyes staring penetratingly into her skull. "I have much more to tell you." Warkhim had played nicely, he'd been polite and helpful and hadn't once diminished her pathetic existence. But the time for niceties was over, and Kira was long overdue to learn her place. Or, at least, learn of the other places her beloved fiancee had been.
"When you told me about Falon, the name piqued my curiosity, and I recalled that I'd come across him more than once in my studies." Deftly sweeping away the Telgarian blood line scrolls and associated encyclopedia to their respective drawers, Warkhim sniffed delicately. He rifled through the bookshelves behind him, pulling out one of the lowborn annals and flipping to a well-inked page. He pointed to Falon's line with a knowing smile, and chuckled, "You didn't tell me he was a father." Lowering his voice, he wickedly murmured, "He has a little girl named Faellin. She's three or so now."
