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!
20.Mar.12, 06:06 AM
It hadn't even been three whole days, and A'din was waking her daughter up with a gentle shake that morning, her voice apologetic; "The Weyrleader wants to see you this afternoon." Indivara had sat stoically as her mother sorted through clothing options, the woman's stance and attitude tense. The girl didn't bother to say anything. She'd been stitched up, and yesterday she had been allowed to return to her own home so long as she went to the Hall every day to have her stitches checked and the progress monitored. Everyone knew Indivara was a grub, and as she was told - repeatedly - her scarring would be 'minimised' if she avoided infection, didn't pop her stitches, and did not pick her scabs. The girl had stopped listening, after the third healer shoved the same information down her throat sideways, probably hoping to choke her in the process.
When A'din had finished picking what Indivara would wear, and told the child what to say - what not to say! - and to make sure she looked properly miserable! Indivara had given the greenrider a dour look as she walked out the door, waving absently to her younger brother when he cried his good luck to her far too cheerfully, (He wasn't spiteful, he just didn't understand.) and made her way through the tangled mess of huts to the Bathing Houses with her arms carefully hugging the tangled pile of clothing to her stomach. Bathing; another thing she had been lectured about. Don't get them wet, do get them wet, not too cold, not too hot! The girl had no idea what she was meant to listen to, and so she chose the easiest method; a quick bath, practically pouring water over her head in her haste and she avidly avoided touching her face at all. Her chest and shoulders were treated to cautiously, fingers light and delicate as she washed around the areas being held together with thin threads of material. Drying off had been just as timidly approached.
As the sun slowly moved closer to the later afternoon hour that the Weyrleader had apparently specified, Indivara stood before one of the long mirrors provided in the housing. She was dressed in a pair of shaped, loose pants that fell to her ankles in sleek black. She had no idea how her mother had gotten her hands on them, but expected she'd brought them back from a trip North, rather than had them specially made. The child usually lived in hand-me-downs, the only clothing Kerrin would let her wear without snide remarks, not the fancy outfit her mother had put together for her, ruined only by the well worn boots on her feet... Her gaze lifted from her pants to take in the top - delicate blue it brought out the stark colour of her eyes - and was loose, she had brought it in at her narrow hips with a black sash. The neckline was shaped with a wide, low hem that her mother had obviously picked because it gave a shockingly terrible view of the claw marks that raked Indivara's shoulders to vanish under the neckline of her chest. The girl's lip trembled, as she lifted a hand gently and ran a finger as lightly as possible over the raised bumps of the stitchery. So many.
Her finger came to a halt at her neck line, and lifted without thought to her lips, brushing over the stitches that had fixed the slash that had burst right through the middle of both. Her lips were swollen, still, and so tender she was living off mushy goop food, unwilling to exert the facial muscle requirements for chewing on meat and vegetables and fruit. Her finger shifted to the one just under her left eye, tracing the length of it, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her face was a swollen, stitched up mess and Indivara's shoulder shook as she fought to swallow the desire to cry. The girl wasn't an overly vain creature, and often scoffed when adults told her she was 'pretty' or that she'd be lovely when she grew up. She didn't care; so long as she had her dragon in her future, what were looks worth?
But staring at the horribly scarred monster before her, Indivara's bottom lip trembled as she made a startling discovery. She was hideous.
When A'din had finished picking what Indivara would wear, and told the child what to say - what not to say! - and to make sure she looked properly miserable! Indivara had given the greenrider a dour look as she walked out the door, waving absently to her younger brother when he cried his good luck to her far too cheerfully, (He wasn't spiteful, he just didn't understand.) and made her way through the tangled mess of huts to the Bathing Houses with her arms carefully hugging the tangled pile of clothing to her stomach. Bathing; another thing she had been lectured about. Don't get them wet, do get them wet, not too cold, not too hot! The girl had no idea what she was meant to listen to, and so she chose the easiest method; a quick bath, practically pouring water over her head in her haste and she avidly avoided touching her face at all. Her chest and shoulders were treated to cautiously, fingers light and delicate as she washed around the areas being held together with thin threads of material. Drying off had been just as timidly approached.
As the sun slowly moved closer to the later afternoon hour that the Weyrleader had apparently specified, Indivara stood before one of the long mirrors provided in the housing. She was dressed in a pair of shaped, loose pants that fell to her ankles in sleek black. She had no idea how her mother had gotten her hands on them, but expected she'd brought them back from a trip North, rather than had them specially made. The child usually lived in hand-me-downs, the only clothing Kerrin would let her wear without snide remarks, not the fancy outfit her mother had put together for her, ruined only by the well worn boots on her feet... Her gaze lifted from her pants to take in the top - delicate blue it brought out the stark colour of her eyes - and was loose, she had brought it in at her narrow hips with a black sash. The neckline was shaped with a wide, low hem that her mother had obviously picked because it gave a shockingly terrible view of the claw marks that raked Indivara's shoulders to vanish under the neckline of her chest. The girl's lip trembled, as she lifted a hand gently and ran a finger as lightly as possible over the raised bumps of the stitchery. So many.
Her finger came to a halt at her neck line, and lifted without thought to her lips, brushing over the stitches that had fixed the slash that had burst right through the middle of both. Her lips were swollen, still, and so tender she was living off mushy goop food, unwilling to exert the facial muscle requirements for chewing on meat and vegetables and fruit. Her finger shifted to the one just under her left eye, tracing the length of it, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her face was a swollen, stitched up mess and Indivara's shoulder shook as she fought to swallow the desire to cry. The girl wasn't an overly vain creature, and often scoffed when adults told her she was 'pretty' or that she'd be lovely when she grew up. She didn't care; so long as she had her dragon in her future, what were looks worth?
But staring at the horribly scarred monster before her, Indivara's bottom lip trembled as she made a startling discovery. She was hideous.
