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!
03.Jul.18, 07:04 AM
N’mor’s lips twisted into a wry smile at Z’rin’s answer, seeing it as much as a dodge as the bluerider being honest. He didn’t call him out on it, though, since N’mor could still see the confusion and consideration in the other man’s eyes; he was thinking further on what had been asked and N’mor decided that since Z’rin hadn’t given his original answer with any indication of amusement or sarcasm, that he was being honest with it. Swallowing another sigh, N’mor’s pale gaze snapped to looking at Z’rin again when the bluerider took up speaking once more.
“It’s my eyes,” N’mor quipped playfully, widening said eyes and staring up at Z’rin soulfully. “R’nd hates it. Babbles worse than you ever could, if he doesn’t run crying to Dad.” Okay, so that had never actually happened, but N’mor knew very well that the bluerider hated it when he stared at him in silent contemplation – which he’d done a lot as a kid – because N’mor was insanely protective of his father and his sister, and R’nd had inserted himself into their life so smoothly and it had, in the beginning, worried N’mor a great deal. What if he was just like that brownriding bastard? It turned out he wasn’t, but by the time N’mor figured that out, he had a reputation to uphold.
His merriment faded away quickly, though, and N’mor chewed over what it was Z’rin had said in answer to his question. “I guess we’re friends then,” he said, glancing up, eyes sparkling with amusement though there was sadness tinged behind them, and he felt his heart twist painfully at the fact that he’d lost T’ryn and his friendship. Was losing T’ryn, worth gaining Z’rin? The bluerider wasn’t a bad person, and N’mor was (to his own disgust) rather fond of him. But he would definitely never be T’ryn.
N’mor shifted his head, turning to stare out across the lounge and swallowing back both the pain and the threat of tears. Faranth he missed T’ryn so much! He’d never gone so long without seeing or talking to his friend, and he felt more lost without T’ryn than he’d ever felt after losing his arm. “T’ryn and I had a…” a what? A fight? A disagreement? A misunderstanding? A difference of opinions? Nothing felt right and N’mor struggled for several moments before shifting his whole body so he was lying on his side, staring out across the room without the threat of being forced to look up at Z’rin, almost but not quite curled up into a pathetic foetal position.
“I am not okay,” he finally said softly, utterly heartbroken. Out on the ledge, Rhezalth lifted his head and made his own soft keening sound; not quite the same as a death keen, but one that clearly indicated his own misery at the situation between the two riders that had been such close friends for so long. N’mor glanced towards the direction of his dragon, and took a deep breath before releasing it slowly and steadily. “I don’t know what to do,” he said softly, still talking to the wall. “I’ve never fought with anyone whose opinion I actually care about.” He glanced up slightly at Z’rin, and gave a dry, lopsided smirk, before sighing again and dropping his head back onto his claimed ‘pillow’, frowning at the wall once more.
“It’s my eyes,” N’mor quipped playfully, widening said eyes and staring up at Z’rin soulfully. “R’nd hates it. Babbles worse than you ever could, if he doesn’t run crying to Dad.” Okay, so that had never actually happened, but N’mor knew very well that the bluerider hated it when he stared at him in silent contemplation – which he’d done a lot as a kid – because N’mor was insanely protective of his father and his sister, and R’nd had inserted himself into their life so smoothly and it had, in the beginning, worried N’mor a great deal. What if he was just like that brownriding bastard? It turned out he wasn’t, but by the time N’mor figured that out, he had a reputation to uphold.
His merriment faded away quickly, though, and N’mor chewed over what it was Z’rin had said in answer to his question. “I guess we’re friends then,” he said, glancing up, eyes sparkling with amusement though there was sadness tinged behind them, and he felt his heart twist painfully at the fact that he’d lost T’ryn and his friendship. Was losing T’ryn, worth gaining Z’rin? The bluerider wasn’t a bad person, and N’mor was (to his own disgust) rather fond of him. But he would definitely never be T’ryn.
N’mor shifted his head, turning to stare out across the lounge and swallowing back both the pain and the threat of tears. Faranth he missed T’ryn so much! He’d never gone so long without seeing or talking to his friend, and he felt more lost without T’ryn than he’d ever felt after losing his arm. “T’ryn and I had a…” a what? A fight? A disagreement? A misunderstanding? A difference of opinions? Nothing felt right and N’mor struggled for several moments before shifting his whole body so he was lying on his side, staring out across the room without the threat of being forced to look up at Z’rin, almost but not quite curled up into a pathetic foetal position.
“I am not okay,” he finally said softly, utterly heartbroken. Out on the ledge, Rhezalth lifted his head and made his own soft keening sound; not quite the same as a death keen, but one that clearly indicated his own misery at the situation between the two riders that had been such close friends for so long. N’mor glanced towards the direction of his dragon, and took a deep breath before releasing it slowly and steadily. “I don’t know what to do,” he said softly, still talking to the wall. “I’ve never fought with anyone whose opinion I actually care about.” He glanced up slightly at Z’rin, and gave a dry, lopsided smirk, before sighing again and dropping his head back onto his claimed ‘pillow’, frowning at the wall once more.
