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!
02.Apr.19, 03:08 AM
There was nothing about being summoned to meet the Weyrleader that boded well. Apparently it wasn’t a cover for a visiting Lord this time, according to Halomirth according to Mosiath, but F’drel wasn’t sure how much faith he put in the statement. M’ris had done it once, and F’drel hadn’t yet been convinced he’d never do something like it again. Hopefully, hopefully M’ris just needed a messenger or something and for whatever reason thought of F’drel. Maybe he had a message for Jalazmar, or Lord Nabol, or some like person. Which wouldn’t be any fun to deliver, but would make sense. The Weyrleader, unfortunately, knew of his ties to Nabol and that his siblings worked for Jalazmar, so if he needed an ‘in’ with either group F’drel knew he wasn’t a bad choice.
Or maybe it was about R’dal, since his friend was the Weyrleader’s son, as much as F’drel had trouble processing that fact sometimes, and had quizzed him on their friendship before. Which may just be worse than having to visit Nabol — no, talking about R’dal with his father may be awkward, but Nabol would definitely be worse. So much worse. Jalazmar he could manage, Nabol he’d really rather not. Even so, he didn’t really want to be questioned about his friendship with R’dal. Or whatever M’ris thought it was. Most people probably thought they were ‘together’ in some fashion by this point, and the Weyrleader was unlikely to be an exception.
Which was awkward, because they weren’t, in fact, sleeping together in a non-platonic fashion. F’drel wasn’t entirely sure the Weyrleader would believe him if he said so, however. He was a bronzerider and R’dal’s father, he probably thought whatever assumptions he made were right. Typical. He should know what his own son was like — he’d nap with anyone and their cousin, it hardly made F’drel special or indicated he and R’dal were destined to be mates forever or some bullshit.
F’drel grumbled all the way to the Weyrleader’s office, amusing Halomirth immensely, though she was still a little unclear on why the distinction was so important. She didn’t bother categorizing her friends like that — she loved all of them, did it matter whether or not they had caught her? Halomirth wasn’t sure, and F’drel had given up trying to explain it to her. He thought — hoped — she’d figure out the differences eventually on her own.
As he got closer to the office, F’drel could feel Miri mentally wrapping herself around him, bolstering him against the thing that caused him anxiety. F’drel smiled softly, filled with love for his dragon. Even if the silly green had questionable tastes in people she thought would make good friends.
Clinging onto Miri to keep from turning around and going right back to his weyr to hide, F’drel approached the door and knocked.
“Weyrleader? It’s F’drel.”
Or maybe it was about R’dal, since his friend was the Weyrleader’s son, as much as F’drel had trouble processing that fact sometimes, and had quizzed him on their friendship before. Which may just be worse than having to visit Nabol — no, talking about R’dal with his father may be awkward, but Nabol would definitely be worse. So much worse. Jalazmar he could manage, Nabol he’d really rather not. Even so, he didn’t really want to be questioned about his friendship with R’dal. Or whatever M’ris thought it was. Most people probably thought they were ‘together’ in some fashion by this point, and the Weyrleader was unlikely to be an exception.
Which was awkward, because they weren’t, in fact, sleeping together in a non-platonic fashion. F’drel wasn’t entirely sure the Weyrleader would believe him if he said so, however. He was a bronzerider and R’dal’s father, he probably thought whatever assumptions he made were right. Typical. He should know what his own son was like — he’d nap with anyone and their cousin, it hardly made F’drel special or indicated he and R’dal were destined to be mates forever or some bullshit.
F’drel grumbled all the way to the Weyrleader’s office, amusing Halomirth immensely, though she was still a little unclear on why the distinction was so important. She didn’t bother categorizing her friends like that — she loved all of them, did it matter whether or not they had caught her? Halomirth wasn’t sure, and F’drel had given up trying to explain it to her. He thought — hoped — she’d figure out the differences eventually on her own.
As he got closer to the office, F’drel could feel Miri mentally wrapping herself around him, bolstering him against the thing that caused him anxiety. F’drel smiled softly, filled with love for his dragon. Even if the silly green had questionable tastes in people she thought would make good friends.
Clinging onto Miri to keep from turning around and going right back to his weyr to hide, F’drel approached the door and knocked.
“Weyrleader? It’s F’drel.”
