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!
30.Aug.21, 11:43 PM
B’jin’s attention was drawn away from the star he was studying at the called out greeting, and he turned to look in the direction from which T’ryn would come, offering the young bronzerider a small smile and a shake of his head to indicate that R’nd was indeed not to be found nearby. His bluerider was off doing whatever he fancied at that moment, but B’jin was sure he’d be home with stories to tell when he did appear.
T’ryn’s admission was met with a one shoulder shrug, and a shake of his head. B’jin had always believed in the Red Star, to the point where he was among those who had been beaten for such a belief. Thread would fall again, B’jin had no doubt about it, and the increasingly bright Star proved it, as far as he was concerned. Leaning over slightly, B’jin picked up one of the sheets of parchment and handed it to T’ryn; it was a draft of Telgar’s current riders, shuffled into wings that made sense to the greenrider; he had helped when D’ren was organising the wings, many many turns ago, back at Katila. He had a feeling the bronzerider had only been placating him, though.
Picking up his piece of parchment and charcoal stick, B’jin set about scribbling a message; You should ask. We need wings again. Especially after all the attacks. The signs are there for threadfall. There are bigger clutches, and we used to have a surplus of golds, too. B’jin shoved the message towards T’ryn so he could read it, and rubbed absently at his neck with his free hand; he was wearing one of the fancy scarves he’d been gifted by R’nd’s sister; it was delicate and gauzy material that was designed to be pretty, not functional. B’jin loved the collection he’d been given, though he wished deeply that they had never been needed.
Taking the piece of parchment back, B’jin used his sleeve to wipe it clean so he could write on it again, irritated – not for the first time – about how he couldn’t write nearly as fast as his thoughts processed. It was incredibly annoying, and had him scowling at the parchment as he wrote messily. N’mor is working on Wings for M’ris. He didn’t add that he was fairly sure M’ris was too drunk to know what N’mor was up to. You should for S’far. Better safe than sorry. And it would give T’ryn something to do that wouldn’t impact his health, no matter how insistent he was that he was fine.
T’ryn’s admission was met with a one shoulder shrug, and a shake of his head. B’jin had always believed in the Red Star, to the point where he was among those who had been beaten for such a belief. Thread would fall again, B’jin had no doubt about it, and the increasingly bright Star proved it, as far as he was concerned. Leaning over slightly, B’jin picked up one of the sheets of parchment and handed it to T’ryn; it was a draft of Telgar’s current riders, shuffled into wings that made sense to the greenrider; he had helped when D’ren was organising the wings, many many turns ago, back at Katila. He had a feeling the bronzerider had only been placating him, though.
Picking up his piece of parchment and charcoal stick, B’jin set about scribbling a message; You should ask. We need wings again. Especially after all the attacks. The signs are there for threadfall. There are bigger clutches, and we used to have a surplus of golds, too. B’jin shoved the message towards T’ryn so he could read it, and rubbed absently at his neck with his free hand; he was wearing one of the fancy scarves he’d been gifted by R’nd’s sister; it was delicate and gauzy material that was designed to be pretty, not functional. B’jin loved the collection he’d been given, though he wished deeply that they had never been needed.
Taking the piece of parchment back, B’jin used his sleeve to wipe it clean so he could write on it again, irritated – not for the first time – about how he couldn’t write nearly as fast as his thoughts processed. It was incredibly annoying, and had him scowling at the parchment as he wrote messily. N’mor is working on Wings for M’ris. He didn’t add that he was fairly sure M’ris was too drunk to know what N’mor was up to. You should for S’far. Better safe than sorry. And it would give T’ryn something to do that wouldn’t impact his health, no matter how insistent he was that he was fine.
