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!
29.Jul.19, 02:07 AM
Kitt still seemed to want to touch the eggs, and Misharan wasn't going to let him do that alone, so the two of them moved back towards the eggs. Misha watched Kitt for a moment, making sure he was alright before turning his attention to the nearest egg, one he hadn't touched yet. He eyed it apprehensively, worried about this one would bring. Fuck it, no point worrying about it, was there? How much worse could it get, really. He pressed his hand to the shell.
This one felt a little more... collected, than the others. Misharan actually got the impression of an individual being in the egg, not just a wave of emotions and feelings. Which was promising, for a moment, more like a typical egg in a typical Touching. Didn't last, though. As soon as the dragonet registered Misharan was there it inundated him with a sense of powerlessness. This one could feel the world around it but do nothing, not react to anything, not able to advocate for itself, just subject to the whims of whatever existed outside of its egg. How about you? it seemed to ask, Have you ever felt like this?
’I don’t…’ Misharan started to think, but the dragonet was pulling up memories, dragging things forward Misha usually tried his best to ignore — His brother crushed in a mining accident, gone one day after breakfast, picking him up and promising to play with him later before walking out the door and never coming back. Overhearing his father and grandmother talking, his father admitting that he could never forget how the Healer had chosen the baby over the mother, saving Misharan while his mother bled out, whenever he looked at his youngest son, who looked so much like her. His siblings, one by one, moving out of the house and letting it get quieter, and quieter, until it was just Misharan, his father, and his grandmother, who looked at him with suspicious eyes and assumed he would ruin the family name. Realizing at twelve that he would never look at a girl the way his brothers did, but the other boys made his heart skip and speech stutter. Hearing the miners talk in the evenings over dinner, making jokes about men who took the roles of women and weren’t good for anything, just wastes of space. Knowing that one day his father would find him a wife and he'd have no say in who she was. Taking care of his grandmother after she fell and broke her hip, gradually slipping away as he tended to her every need, followed all the instructions set by the Healer. She thought he was one of his older brothers, the last few weeks, and gave him advice on how to handle the rest of the family, including the youngest, Misharan — that boy was trouble, and needed proper management if he was to be kept from disgracing them. And then she was gone, and Misharan hated that he was relieved, had even started wishing she were — Misharan tore his hand away, staring at the egg, throat tight with unshed tears.
“Did that help you feel less like you're the only one who can't control their life?” he asked it shakily. The egg couldn't respond from this distance, and Misha had no intention of getting close enough again to ask. He glanced over at Beckitt, who wasn't on the ground, screaming, or completely insensible, so Misharan took that as a good sign and turned to the next egg, bracing himself for whatever new misery was in store. With a trembling hand he reached for it, making contact with the surface.
Nothing. Or rather, Misha couldn't feel anything. He knew feelings existed, outside of him, but not here. After the raw emotions dredged up by the last egg, the numbness of this one would have been a relief, if he could have felt that emotion either. A long moment passed, then two, then four, and eventually Misharan slowly lifted his hand from the shell. As soon as his hand lost contact with the egg, everything came back in a rush and Misha almost toppled over from the sheer volume of feeling everything at once after feeling nothing, and he swayed on his feet, eyes pressed tightly closed as he tried to keep from crying, or yelling, or even laughing. Anything. Everything.
Looking over at Kitt again, who was now standing awkwardly at the edge of the Clutch, seemingly waiting for him. Misha briefly glanced at the last egg he had to touch, debating whether he really wanted to deal with whatever fresh horror it held. He didn't but he'd promised himself and the eggs he’d touch all six. Misharan took a step closer, and quickly skimmed his hand over the top of the shell, barely making any contact with it at all. Thankfully, this one was like the first one he touched and was slow to respond, and Misha could step back and move over to stand with Kitt. He’d touched the egg, not his fault it was sleepy.
He was done with this Touching.
This one felt a little more... collected, than the others. Misharan actually got the impression of an individual being in the egg, not just a wave of emotions and feelings. Which was promising, for a moment, more like a typical egg in a typical Touching. Didn't last, though. As soon as the dragonet registered Misharan was there it inundated him with a sense of powerlessness. This one could feel the world around it but do nothing, not react to anything, not able to advocate for itself, just subject to the whims of whatever existed outside of its egg. How about you? it seemed to ask, Have you ever felt like this?
’I don’t…’ Misharan started to think, but the dragonet was pulling up memories, dragging things forward Misha usually tried his best to ignore — His brother crushed in a mining accident, gone one day after breakfast, picking him up and promising to play with him later before walking out the door and never coming back. Overhearing his father and grandmother talking, his father admitting that he could never forget how the Healer had chosen the baby over the mother, saving Misharan while his mother bled out, whenever he looked at his youngest son, who looked so much like her. His siblings, one by one, moving out of the house and letting it get quieter, and quieter, until it was just Misharan, his father, and his grandmother, who looked at him with suspicious eyes and assumed he would ruin the family name. Realizing at twelve that he would never look at a girl the way his brothers did, but the other boys made his heart skip and speech stutter. Hearing the miners talk in the evenings over dinner, making jokes about men who took the roles of women and weren’t good for anything, just wastes of space. Knowing that one day his father would find him a wife and he'd have no say in who she was. Taking care of his grandmother after she fell and broke her hip, gradually slipping away as he tended to her every need, followed all the instructions set by the Healer. She thought he was one of his older brothers, the last few weeks, and gave him advice on how to handle the rest of the family, including the youngest, Misharan — that boy was trouble, and needed proper management if he was to be kept from disgracing them. And then she was gone, and Misharan hated that he was relieved, had even started wishing she were — Misharan tore his hand away, staring at the egg, throat tight with unshed tears.
“Did that help you feel less like you're the only one who can't control their life?” he asked it shakily. The egg couldn't respond from this distance, and Misha had no intention of getting close enough again to ask. He glanced over at Beckitt, who wasn't on the ground, screaming, or completely insensible, so Misharan took that as a good sign and turned to the next egg, bracing himself for whatever new misery was in store. With a trembling hand he reached for it, making contact with the surface.
Nothing. Or rather, Misha couldn't feel anything. He knew feelings existed, outside of him, but not here. After the raw emotions dredged up by the last egg, the numbness of this one would have been a relief, if he could have felt that emotion either. A long moment passed, then two, then four, and eventually Misharan slowly lifted his hand from the shell. As soon as his hand lost contact with the egg, everything came back in a rush and Misha almost toppled over from the sheer volume of feeling everything at once after feeling nothing, and he swayed on his feet, eyes pressed tightly closed as he tried to keep from crying, or yelling, or even laughing. Anything. Everything.
Looking over at Kitt again, who was now standing awkwardly at the edge of the Clutch, seemingly waiting for him. Misha briefly glanced at the last egg he had to touch, debating whether he really wanted to deal with whatever fresh horror it held. He didn't but he'd promised himself and the eggs he’d touch all six. Misharan took a step closer, and quickly skimmed his hand over the top of the shell, barely making any contact with it at all. Thankfully, this one was like the first one he touched and was slow to respond, and Misha could step back and move over to stand with Kitt. He’d touched the egg, not his fault it was sleepy.
He was done with this Touching.
