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!
14.Oct.13, 06:26 PM
J’ver had spent the day finding out what he could about the event he had all but forgotten until a mistimed announcement at the secret meeting. Thankfully, he remembered the timeframe that it had happened and started from there, finding out what he could about B’jin’s day that led up to the moment he left for the North. That had been tricky since so many of his contacts had horrible minds that didn’t recall minute details so far back but he had started to collect scraps of information. It wouldn’t be enough to sate S’kef, though, and he knew it.
J’ver dreaded, feared, going back to the hut. Only pain awaited him and he wasn’t a fool to believe otherwise. No matter what he brought back to S’kef, there would be pain. The only question was, how much would he receive? The small bit of information he had was barely anything on the grand scheme of things and it wouldn’t save him from the worst of what S’kef could dish out. If he had a proper answer and could explain B’jin’s stunt to the last detail, he’d probably wake up the next day still bruised and sore but he’d still be able to move.
S’kef’s bellowing for him as Rilaleeyth landed close to Tyrrisath was not enticing. There were times they played games where getting yelled at and then whipped was a turn on but this was not one of those times. That was genuine anger the grennrider heard in his mate’s voice and it as genuine fear that had his knees almost buckling beneath him as he slipped from his dragon’s back to the ground. “Take care of her,” he shot a glare at Tyrrisath, studying him for the briefest of moments. The brown could be rather ruthless when he was following S’kef’s orders but he was also rather tender when it came to Rilaleeyth and J’ver knew he wouldn’t have to worry about her too much during what was about to come.
Wordlessly, J’ver entered the hut and made sure the door closed tightly behind him. It wouldn’t do to have someone walk by and see the bloody rage the Weyrleader could enter. Rumours were one thing; reality was another. As soon as he closed the door, J’ver was shrugging out of his tunic. He had just finished creating it two days prior and he had no intention of letting it get ripped or bloodied. “Good evening, Weyrleader,” he said casually, tossing the tunic onto the nearby chair. It didn’t matter what he said or did, the first blow would connect soon and J’ver was doing his best not to seem too afraid. They both knew it was a charade, though.
J’ver dreaded, feared, going back to the hut. Only pain awaited him and he wasn’t a fool to believe otherwise. No matter what he brought back to S’kef, there would be pain. The only question was, how much would he receive? The small bit of information he had was barely anything on the grand scheme of things and it wouldn’t save him from the worst of what S’kef could dish out. If he had a proper answer and could explain B’jin’s stunt to the last detail, he’d probably wake up the next day still bruised and sore but he’d still be able to move.
S’kef’s bellowing for him as Rilaleeyth landed close to Tyrrisath was not enticing. There were times they played games where getting yelled at and then whipped was a turn on but this was not one of those times. That was genuine anger the grennrider heard in his mate’s voice and it as genuine fear that had his knees almost buckling beneath him as he slipped from his dragon’s back to the ground. “Take care of her,” he shot a glare at Tyrrisath, studying him for the briefest of moments. The brown could be rather ruthless when he was following S’kef’s orders but he was also rather tender when it came to Rilaleeyth and J’ver knew he wouldn’t have to worry about her too much during what was about to come.
Wordlessly, J’ver entered the hut and made sure the door closed tightly behind him. It wouldn’t do to have someone walk by and see the bloody rage the Weyrleader could enter. Rumours were one thing; reality was another. As soon as he closed the door, J’ver was shrugging out of his tunic. He had just finished creating it two days prior and he had no intention of letting it get ripped or bloodied. “Good evening, Weyrleader,” he said casually, tossing the tunic onto the nearby chair. It didn’t matter what he said or did, the first blow would connect soon and J’ver was doing his best not to seem too afraid. They both knew it was a charade, though.
