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, 11:44 AM
N’mor hadn’t been expecting any sage advice; Z’rin had asked what was wrong and N’mor had given an answer. He’d mostly kind of just expected the conversation to be dropped from there. He knew friends were supposed to help each other and the like, so he supposed he shouldn’t have been overly surprised when Z’rin attempted to do just that, but honestly, he was too busy sitting up sharply to stare at the bluerider in horror. “I would never hit you!”
He knew, under his shock, that Z’rin had been teasing him, but the implications were too much for N’mor. Having spent so many of his early years watching his father being beaten by his mate (and though B’jin tried to hide it, N’mall never did – not from N’mor and his sister, anyway) the idea of hurting the person you were supposed to love absolutely horrified N’mor. The fact that, even jokingly, Z’rin though N’mor might hit him hurt N’mor’s feelings almost as much as when T’ryn had walked out the door. What had he ever done to make Z’rin think that might ever be a possibility?
Standing up fluidly – frustrated, upset, antsy and needing to move – N’mor picked up his wineglass and tossed back the last of what had been in it, and then made his way to the sink, where he set the glass down gently. Spinning around, he made his way back to the living area, his steps kind of woozy and his expression blank; his hurt over T’ryn forgotten in the moment as he obsessed over the fact that someone thought that he would be capable of hitting them.
“Why would you think that?” He asked, the words barely above a whisper as he stood in the middle of the room, staring at Z’rin brokenly. “You should go,” he whispered, even though the chance of Z’rin taking that to mean forever (just like T’ryn had) had N’mor biting his bottom lip, pale eyes swimming behind a wall of tears that he just had to keep back until the bluerider left. Then he could sob like a broken child against his dragon.
His best friend hated him, and his lover thought he’d hit him. When had everything gone so horribly wrong?
He knew, under his shock, that Z’rin had been teasing him, but the implications were too much for N’mor. Having spent so many of his early years watching his father being beaten by his mate (and though B’jin tried to hide it, N’mall never did – not from N’mor and his sister, anyway) the idea of hurting the person you were supposed to love absolutely horrified N’mor. The fact that, even jokingly, Z’rin though N’mor might hit him hurt N’mor’s feelings almost as much as when T’ryn had walked out the door. What had he ever done to make Z’rin think that might ever be a possibility?
Standing up fluidly – frustrated, upset, antsy and needing to move – N’mor picked up his wineglass and tossed back the last of what had been in it, and then made his way to the sink, where he set the glass down gently. Spinning around, he made his way back to the living area, his steps kind of woozy and his expression blank; his hurt over T’ryn forgotten in the moment as he obsessed over the fact that someone thought that he would be capable of hitting them.
“Why would you think that?” He asked, the words barely above a whisper as he stood in the middle of the room, staring at Z’rin brokenly. “You should go,” he whispered, even though the chance of Z’rin taking that to mean forever (just like T’ryn had) had N’mor biting his bottom lip, pale eyes swimming behind a wall of tears that he just had to keep back until the bluerider left. Then he could sob like a broken child against his dragon.
His best friend hated him, and his lover thought he’d hit him. When had everything gone so horribly wrong?
