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!
16.Jun.18, 07:12 AM
N’mor stumbled along when R’nd mumbled something about coming into the weyr, hearing the door close behind him through his sobs. He struggled to get himself under control, but every time he started to get a hang of his tears, and a breath without sobbing, some thought or memory interrupted his progress and he dissolved again. N’mor sniffled when R’nd stepped back and spoke. N’mor’s fingers relaxed the death grip he had on the back of R’nd’s shirt, and he sheepishly withdrew his arm, wrapping it around his waist pathetically in a one-armed self-hug.
“Oh,” he whispered, fighting the uncharacteristic feeling of being abandoned by his dad. B’jin was flighty, and N’mor had often heard his mother call the greenrider a ‘fair weather father’, but he’d never hesitated to be there for himself or his sister when they needed him, and N’mor knew first hand how fiercely protective his father was. If he knew he was upset, he wouldn’t be away from him. With that thought, Rhezalth reached out gently to Larrikith and asked her to pass on the need for B’jin back home, feeling the green’s consent and Rhezalth left the ledge of the old weyr he’d shared with N’mor before they transferred to Ista, and made his way to Larrikith and Ayyonth’s, though he wasn’t sure he’d fit in with them both. After a moment’s hesitation, he landed on the ledge above, in case he was needed.
A wry smile flickered over N’mor’s lips at the quip about the Benden wine, and he followed quietly alongside R’nd as the bluerider lead him over to the couch and bade him sit. He did as he was bid, curling miserably around one of the throw pillows that was on the seat, holding it on his lap and hugging it to himself. When R’nd returned with the wine and a snack plate, N’mor took the glass, but avoided looking at the plate, unable to throw the thought away that it had much the same contents on it as the one he’d brought to his old room for T’ryn and he to share… which had mostly ended up on the floor and strewn across the bedding.
“Thank you,” he said softly instead, taking a sip of wine with the same appreciation he’d learned from his father. When R’nd sat near him and asked he tell him what happened, N’mor paused with the glass halfway to his mouth. He stared at R’nd with horrified eyes for several moments, before grimacing and throwing back the rest of his glass of wine. An absolute waste of good quality Benden, but N’mor needed the strength it offered. He set the glass down on the floor by the side of the chair and rubbed his hand over his face. He was so tired!
“You’ll hate me,” he said softly, realising as he spoke the words how much R’nd’s good opinion of him meant to him. But it was more than that, too. “You can’t hate Dad,” he said, panicking and desperate as he looked up at R’nd with huge eyes, his face pale and sickly under the blotches. What is R’nd left his dad because he’d screwed things up with T’ryn? N’mor’s breath came in desperate gasps as he panicked, his chest tightening and making breathing hard. He’d had hundreds of panic attacks after losing his arm, and while he struggled to get himself under control, he did regain that control after a while, wild eyes staring at R’nd as the bluerider watched him; his calm quiet was helpful, though, and N’mor took a shuddering breath.
Standing up, he strode over to where R’nd had left the bottle and picked it up, striding back and slumping into the seat he’d vacated a moment prior. Picking his glass up and putting it between his knees, N’mor set about refilling it and then set the bottle down between the seats. He took a sip of the wine, delaying as much as he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell R’nd (well, he kinda didn’t) but he mostly didn’t want to talk about it at all. Ever. But he also did and it was all terribly confusing. N’mor sighed.
“We were in my old weyr,” he said softly. “I didn’t think T should travel and I wanted to talk to him, ’cause you know. We both won?” Frowning slightly, N’mor glanced up at R’nd to make sure the bluerider understood. N’mor hadn’t heard about any maiden Flights being won by first-time bronzes before (though he expected it had happened before Katila) and then he and his best friend had won the two most recent flights. He’d wanted to know if T’ryn’s experience had been the same or similar to his own.
N’mor twisted the wineglass stem between his fingers and thumb, watching the way the liquid danced. “He kissed me,” N’mor said quietly, not looking up from the glass he was still fidgeting with. “I… invited it.” But realising he hadn’t been the one to actually initiate the kissing or the things that followed confused N’mor. Why did T’ryn kiss him, if he was in love with Casa? Shoulders slumped, and N’mor closed his eyes in pain. T’ryn had even been the one that initiated the removal of clothing! “We…” He fell off; it was too painful to actually say – N’mor wanted to say they made love, but T’ryn clearly had been of the opinion that it was nothing more than a fuck… Besides. R’nd was a smart guy, he could fill in the blanks.
“Then he talked about Casa,” N’mor spat, jealousy and anguish thick in his voice. “We fought. He left.” He drank several mouthfuls of wine, wondering if the pair had cheaper stuff he wouldn’t feel guilty about guzzling and getting roaring drunk on. He’d really like to drink until he passed out, and then drink again when he woke up. N’mor grimaced; he was definitely his father’s son.
“Oh,” he whispered, fighting the uncharacteristic feeling of being abandoned by his dad. B’jin was flighty, and N’mor had often heard his mother call the greenrider a ‘fair weather father’, but he’d never hesitated to be there for himself or his sister when they needed him, and N’mor knew first hand how fiercely protective his father was. If he knew he was upset, he wouldn’t be away from him. With that thought, Rhezalth reached out gently to Larrikith and asked her to pass on the need for B’jin back home, feeling the green’s consent and Rhezalth left the ledge of the old weyr he’d shared with N’mor before they transferred to Ista, and made his way to Larrikith and Ayyonth’s, though he wasn’t sure he’d fit in with them both. After a moment’s hesitation, he landed on the ledge above, in case he was needed.
A wry smile flickered over N’mor’s lips at the quip about the Benden wine, and he followed quietly alongside R’nd as the bluerider lead him over to the couch and bade him sit. He did as he was bid, curling miserably around one of the throw pillows that was on the seat, holding it on his lap and hugging it to himself. When R’nd returned with the wine and a snack plate, N’mor took the glass, but avoided looking at the plate, unable to throw the thought away that it had much the same contents on it as the one he’d brought to his old room for T’ryn and he to share… which had mostly ended up on the floor and strewn across the bedding.
“Thank you,” he said softly instead, taking a sip of wine with the same appreciation he’d learned from his father. When R’nd sat near him and asked he tell him what happened, N’mor paused with the glass halfway to his mouth. He stared at R’nd with horrified eyes for several moments, before grimacing and throwing back the rest of his glass of wine. An absolute waste of good quality Benden, but N’mor needed the strength it offered. He set the glass down on the floor by the side of the chair and rubbed his hand over his face. He was so tired!
“You’ll hate me,” he said softly, realising as he spoke the words how much R’nd’s good opinion of him meant to him. But it was more than that, too. “You can’t hate Dad,” he said, panicking and desperate as he looked up at R’nd with huge eyes, his face pale and sickly under the blotches. What is R’nd left his dad because he’d screwed things up with T’ryn? N’mor’s breath came in desperate gasps as he panicked, his chest tightening and making breathing hard. He’d had hundreds of panic attacks after losing his arm, and while he struggled to get himself under control, he did regain that control after a while, wild eyes staring at R’nd as the bluerider watched him; his calm quiet was helpful, though, and N’mor took a shuddering breath.
Standing up, he strode over to where R’nd had left the bottle and picked it up, striding back and slumping into the seat he’d vacated a moment prior. Picking his glass up and putting it between his knees, N’mor set about refilling it and then set the bottle down between the seats. He took a sip of the wine, delaying as much as he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell R’nd (well, he kinda didn’t) but he mostly didn’t want to talk about it at all. Ever. But he also did and it was all terribly confusing. N’mor sighed.
“We were in my old weyr,” he said softly. “I didn’t think T should travel and I wanted to talk to him, ’cause you know. We both won?” Frowning slightly, N’mor glanced up at R’nd to make sure the bluerider understood. N’mor hadn’t heard about any maiden Flights being won by first-time bronzes before (though he expected it had happened before Katila) and then he and his best friend had won the two most recent flights. He’d wanted to know if T’ryn’s experience had been the same or similar to his own.
N’mor twisted the wineglass stem between his fingers and thumb, watching the way the liquid danced. “He kissed me,” N’mor said quietly, not looking up from the glass he was still fidgeting with. “I… invited it.” But realising he hadn’t been the one to actually initiate the kissing or the things that followed confused N’mor. Why did T’ryn kiss him, if he was in love with Casa? Shoulders slumped, and N’mor closed his eyes in pain. T’ryn had even been the one that initiated the removal of clothing! “We…” He fell off; it was too painful to actually say – N’mor wanted to say they made love, but T’ryn clearly had been of the opinion that it was nothing more than a fuck… Besides. R’nd was a smart guy, he could fill in the blanks.
“Then he talked about Casa,” N’mor spat, jealousy and anguish thick in his voice. “We fought. He left.” He drank several mouthfuls of wine, wondering if the pair had cheaper stuff he wouldn’t feel guilty about guzzling and getting roaring drunk on. He’d really like to drink until he passed out, and then drink again when he woke up. N’mor grimaced; he was definitely his father’s son.
