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!
04.Jan.14, 07:14 AM
A breeze blew through the tent, causing S'cer to stir and draw a bare foot back into the blankets. The weather was cold by comparison to the typical muggy heat of the South, and though S'cer was grateful, he would berate himself for thinking that this was cold later. "Fuckin' weather," he grumbled, tugging the blankets further up around his chin, burrowing down into the blankets as best he could.
He could see the pale grey sky through the ajar tent flap; dawn was coming on, but it wasn't quite time to be up yet. And yet there was a restless itch crawling underneath his skin, making it difficult to just roll over and go back to sleep. Frowning, S'cer sat up, wincing as something pinged in his chest. Absently he scratched at the nape of his neck, combing his fingers through his hair, as he sat on the edge of his bed.
S'cer?
He yawned before getting to his feet, stretching carefully so as not to irritate his healing ribs. I can't sleep. What about you? A quick rummage in the bag at the end of his bed and he came back with the second pair of loaned trousers and his repaired shirt; still too large in the waist, he cinched the trousers in with a leather belt. Perhaps we could go down to the lake and get a wash in while it's uncrowded.
There was no answer, and he pushed aside the tent flap at the sound of wingbeats overhead. Quelseth? What's going on? It was rare that she would just outright refuse to answer, and a frown knit S'cer's eyebrows together.
I need to fly. Right now.
Wait and I'll go with you...
No. Now!
S'cer caught sight of her hovering overhead, and in the early morning gloom he could easily notice the glossier look of her hide. You're Flying! He didn't mean for it to come off harsh, but it was all he got to say before she took off, bugling a challenge.
"It's too soon!" He yelled to no one in particular, forgetting himself and the mind-link, furious at her for seemingly sneaking around into her first Flight. He had hoped that she would Fly late, had figured that due to her sickliness she would mature later. In truth, he was unprepared for this; he was well aware how Flights worked, but this was Quelseth. You need to come back, he pleaded, knowing it was futile.
She laughed, quiet and slightly bitter.You know I cannot. Banking overhead, she flew back over the unfinished Weyrfolk building and the tent city, bugling again.
He could see the pale grey sky through the ajar tent flap; dawn was coming on, but it wasn't quite time to be up yet. And yet there was a restless itch crawling underneath his skin, making it difficult to just roll over and go back to sleep. Frowning, S'cer sat up, wincing as something pinged in his chest. Absently he scratched at the nape of his neck, combing his fingers through his hair, as he sat on the edge of his bed.
He yawned before getting to his feet, stretching carefully so as not to irritate his healing ribs. I can't sleep. What about you? A quick rummage in the bag at the end of his bed and he came back with the second pair of loaned trousers and his repaired shirt; still too large in the waist, he cinched the trousers in with a leather belt. Perhaps we could go down to the lake and get a wash in while it's uncrowded.
There was no answer, and he pushed aside the tent flap at the sound of wingbeats overhead. Quelseth? What's going on? It was rare that she would just outright refuse to answer, and a frown knit S'cer's eyebrows together.
Wait and I'll go with you...
S'cer caught sight of her hovering overhead, and in the early morning gloom he could easily notice the glossier look of her hide. You're Flying! He didn't mean for it to come off harsh, but it was all he got to say before she took off, bugling a challenge.
"It's too soon!" He yelled to no one in particular, forgetting himself and the mind-link, furious at her for seemingly sneaking around into her first Flight. He had hoped that she would Fly late, had figured that due to her sickliness she would mature later. In truth, he was unprepared for this; he was well aware how Flights worked, but this was Quelseth. You need to come back, he pleaded, knowing it was futile.
She laughed, quiet and slightly bitter.
