26.Aug.21, 02:26 AM
B’jin leaned backwards, putting his weight on his hands as he stared up at the sky, specifically the Red Star, and puffed out a breath to himself, eyes narrowing at the Star. It was getting closer, much closer than he would like and yet the Weyrs were still so unprepared for when the Thread would come. There weren’t even wings set up in any that he was aware of, and then there were all those people who believed the Red Star was just a star, that Thread was long gone and would never be back. B’jin felt differently, and that made him anxious.
Pulling his legs up from where they’d been dangling over the edge of the weyr, B’jin crossed them as he eyed the Star once more. Beside him, a stack of parchment and rolls were spread out, all of them related in some way to the Red Star and Threadfall. He’d taken to studying up on the Star since being told he was all but recovered. He’d never speak again, and that took a huge toll on B’jin. He loved to talk, loved to sing, and found his voicelessness to be incredibly irritating. Larrikith would occasionally play the role of communicator, but the green dragon had gotten bored of that very fast.
So, besides his rolls and parchment piles, B’jin also had a piece of parchment he could wipe clean stowed nearby with a stick of charcoal. His handwritten messages left a lot to be desired as far as neatness went – he’d gotten sick of being perfectionist about his writing very quickly – but they got the message across when Larrikith refused and general sign language didn’t cover more in-depth messages.
Aren’t you sick of staring at that Star? Larrikith asked blandly, from where she was curled up in her space she shared with Ayyonth. It’s getting brighter. Thread is coming back. It’s just a matter of time, Love. Which you have in piles now you’ve finished sulking Not exactly a lot of jobs available when you can’t talk, now is there? We could still teach Weyrlings, you know. B’jin sighed and reached over to pick up a blank piece of parchment and a quill. Only until you get sick of playing messenger.
Pulling his legs up from where they’d been dangling over the edge of the weyr, B’jin crossed them as he eyed the Star once more. Beside him, a stack of parchment and rolls were spread out, all of them related in some way to the Red Star and Threadfall. He’d taken to studying up on the Star since being told he was all but recovered. He’d never speak again, and that took a huge toll on B’jin. He loved to talk, loved to sing, and found his voicelessness to be incredibly irritating. Larrikith would occasionally play the role of communicator, but the green dragon had gotten bored of that very fast.
So, besides his rolls and parchment piles, B’jin also had a piece of parchment he could wipe clean stowed nearby with a stick of charcoal. His handwritten messages left a lot to be desired as far as neatness went – he’d gotten sick of being perfectionist about his writing very quickly – but they got the message across when Larrikith refused and general sign language didn’t cover more in-depth messages.