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!
24.Apr.12, 04:16 AM
S'kef was outright surprised by Lym's assertion that he was ill. How could she tell? Ever conscious of his outward emotions, S'kef's features just hardened behind a wicked stare. Maybe Tyrrisath was right and the illness had become most noticeable. The fact she was a healer was to her advantage in such things, but it srtill confounded him. Had his skin lost some of it's color? Has his eyes lost some of their red hot intensity?
He snorted. Just as Lymsleia hid her nervousness with bravado, he hit his own doubts with rage. He could feel a mild pressure of Tyrrisath, a moderating force reminding him of place in the Weyr. Tyrrisath was such a patient, loyal guardian. The dragon's wordless reminder brushed S'kef's mind as lightly as a fallen feather, but the ripples it created soon turned to tidal waves.
S'kef unclenched his fist.
"You don't have to talk to D'ren," he said as he turned and walked through the hallway, striding with the same force and authority he always tried to carry. Today, his gait was slightly off and his feet moved less quickly than usual, but still the inhabitants of the hall quickly made way for him. A sense of reassurance and pride swelled through him as he passed, gratified by their displays of submission.
It reminded him of who he was, and why he was doing what he was doing.
He moved into one of the less populated hallways and paused. "He's a very busy man. He's entrusted me with this task, and I see no reason to bother him any more than we already have..." he said, voice formal and yet terrifyingly soft as he reached to his side.
He wasn't carrying the whip he'd used on B'jin. That was just short of a murder weapon. Instead, he carried a small runner whip. "I won't require you remove your shirt.." he said eyeing her with subtle warning, daring her to protest.
His head pounded.
He snorted. Just as Lymsleia hid her nervousness with bravado, he hit his own doubts with rage. He could feel a mild pressure of Tyrrisath, a moderating force reminding him of place in the Weyr. Tyrrisath was such a patient, loyal guardian. The dragon's wordless reminder brushed S'kef's mind as lightly as a fallen feather, but the ripples it created soon turned to tidal waves.
S'kef unclenched his fist.
"You don't have to talk to D'ren," he said as he turned and walked through the hallway, striding with the same force and authority he always tried to carry. Today, his gait was slightly off and his feet moved less quickly than usual, but still the inhabitants of the hall quickly made way for him. A sense of reassurance and pride swelled through him as he passed, gratified by their displays of submission.
It reminded him of who he was, and why he was doing what he was doing.
He moved into one of the less populated hallways and paused. "He's a very busy man. He's entrusted me with this task, and I see no reason to bother him any more than we already have..." he said, voice formal and yet terrifyingly soft as he reached to his side.
He wasn't carrying the whip he'd used on B'jin. That was just short of a murder weapon. Instead, he carried a small runner whip. "I won't require you remove your shirt.." he said eyeing her with subtle warning, daring her to protest.
His head pounded.
