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!
01.May.18, 05:50 PM
At that moment M’dox’s brain seemed to have halted, overrun with the many thoughts and emotions whirling through it. He hadn’t meant to imply the skirt was for him, but it definitely had initially looked like that. So that prompted a fun combination of embarrassment and fear — mostly the fear, really — which made him blush and stammer out an explantation. And yet —and yet — the way T’bia said “It’s still lovely” meant that the first time he’d said “It’s lovely” was referring to it on him, not his sister. Which was…well, unexpected to say the least. The maxim ‘men do not wear skirts’ had been very clearly taught to M’dox, but apparently T’bia hadn’t been taught the same thing. Was that a Weyr thing, or just a T’bia thing? M’dox leaned towards the latter, as if it were a Weyr thing he should have seen at least one man in a skirt by now, but he hadn’t.
He wished he had.
To be perfectly honest, most of the dress and skirt wearing he’d done as a child had been Enfrai’s choice, not his. M’dox knew, had always known, that he could have stopped her if he wanted. But he hadn’t stopped her, not once. Not even the times she’d convinced him to wear skirts after their father’s ultimatum on the topic — he’d found out on the fourth time, and they’d gotten a stern talking to. Enfrai had never broached the topic again after that, and M’dox had never been brave enough to wear them on his own, without using her encouragement as an excuse, a crutch.
And it’s not like he’d spent the past ten turns wishing he were always in a skirt either. Pants were great; practical, comfortable, easy to move in, and not going to get him beat up behind a barn. It’s just sometimes, on occasion, M’dox would remember and wonder. Wonder and wish that he wasn't so afraid or people weren’t so horribly judgmental and maybe, just maybe, he could do things because he liked them and not because he was afraid.
Eventually M’dox managed to put his thoughts into some semblance of order, after what felt like ages and was barely more than a few heartbeats. Still blushing exceptionally red, he managed to respond to T’bia’s questions.
“She probably has more hip than I do, I assume anyway, but not too much, last I saw her. My whole family is pretty slight.” M’dox said, looking back down at the skirt. “This one’s pretty loose and it sits at the waist, so it should be forgiving on wider hips, I think.” He bit his lip, considering what to say next. Riquarth, who had taken notice at his rider’s sudden spike of fear of a few moments ago, sent gentle encouragement to M’dox, gently pushing him to speak instead of hiding.
“Do you… do you really think it’d look good on me?” He asked hesitantly, voice barely a whisper in the quiet hum of the store, but loud enough T’bia could probably hear it. It sounded loud enough to M’dox, an admission of a flaw that made him a target, made him lesser (Never. Riquarth snarled at the thought, reassuring M’dox he was worthy and his.). The amount of vulnerability he was showing honestly surprised M’dox. Not that he constantly exuded confidence or anything, far from it, but as a rule he didn’t go around showing the parts of himself he tried hardest to hide.
He wished he had.
To be perfectly honest, most of the dress and skirt wearing he’d done as a child had been Enfrai’s choice, not his. M’dox knew, had always known, that he could have stopped her if he wanted. But he hadn’t stopped her, not once. Not even the times she’d convinced him to wear skirts after their father’s ultimatum on the topic — he’d found out on the fourth time, and they’d gotten a stern talking to. Enfrai had never broached the topic again after that, and M’dox had never been brave enough to wear them on his own, without using her encouragement as an excuse, a crutch.
And it’s not like he’d spent the past ten turns wishing he were always in a skirt either. Pants were great; practical, comfortable, easy to move in, and not going to get him beat up behind a barn. It’s just sometimes, on occasion, M’dox would remember and wonder. Wonder and wish that he wasn't so afraid or people weren’t so horribly judgmental and maybe, just maybe, he could do things because he liked them and not because he was afraid.
Eventually M’dox managed to put his thoughts into some semblance of order, after what felt like ages and was barely more than a few heartbeats. Still blushing exceptionally red, he managed to respond to T’bia’s questions.
“She probably has more hip than I do, I assume anyway, but not too much, last I saw her. My whole family is pretty slight.” M’dox said, looking back down at the skirt. “This one’s pretty loose and it sits at the waist, so it should be forgiving on wider hips, I think.” He bit his lip, considering what to say next. Riquarth, who had taken notice at his rider’s sudden spike of fear of a few moments ago, sent gentle encouragement to M’dox, gently pushing him to speak instead of hiding.
“Do you… do you really think it’d look good on me?” He asked hesitantly, voice barely a whisper in the quiet hum of the store, but loud enough T’bia could probably hear it. It sounded loud enough to M’dox, an admission of a flaw that made him a target, made him lesser (Never. Riquarth snarled at the thought, reassuring M’dox he was worthy and his.). The amount of vulnerability he was showing honestly surprised M’dox. Not that he constantly exuded confidence or anything, far from it, but as a rule he didn’t go around showing the parts of himself he tried hardest to hide.
