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!
28.Apr.13, 10:34 PM
As he spoke, M'din noticed how intently Peorray listened. It innately pleased him to feel helpful in any situation, so offering up a discussion about Armath and his children that could potentially assist her in the future delighted the bearded man extensively. He was just thrilled that she seemed to genuinely care about his opinion and experiences, light brown eyes locked steadily on his own.
He dragged his fingers through wet hair, brushing back his troublesome bangs as she described her young son, Soren. He fondly remembered the infant-days, or the "no-sleep-stinky-creature-I-hate-your-reproductive-system days" according to Armath, of his own children. Granted, his dragon was not overly fond of small babies, preferring human children far more when they were capable of basic thoughts and potty training. M'din recognized that the brown's aversion was a product of carrying Mariltin, his first child, during the Exile. Those were difficult times in their lives, tragedy appearing at every turn, but the rider pushed the depressing memories from his mind, focusing again on his new friend.
Peorray was probably a wonderful, firm mother, he decided. He hoped her young boy would grow up with a father, or at least a father-figure, knowing that many riders had no interest in their progeny. Those sorts of men were missing out on an incredible experience, in M'din's humble opinion. "One day I'll have to meet Soren," he told her. "Little ones are great fun when they aren't crying."
When Peorray questioned him about Impression, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, tapping his large hands on the water's surface. "I wouldn't call it foreign," he began. "Just different. It's like you have this really nice hut, and suddenly someone opens a door you've never noticed before. There's a room on the other side that doesn't belong to you, someone else decorated it, but it's such a pretty room and you love everything inside. It really ties the whole hut together now that you know it's open," he said, imagining how a room decorated by Armath would look.
With others, especially riders, M'din would have been exceedingly self-conscious about his Impression speech. He was aware of how childlike his explanation sounded, but he had always been of the school of thought that if an idea could be easily conveyed to another, both parties would fully understand it. Fancy, vague descriptions wouldn't make Impression any easier to comprehend for a non-rider, but a simple metaphor about a hut would.
Armath's quick wit could clarify any subject better than M'din's stumbling analogies, prompting him to ask her, "Would you like to meet Armath sometime? He's probably still asleep at the moment, but maybe you and Soren could sneak away later this sevenday." He chortled, scratching his soaked beard, "Maybe at a setting more appropriate than the Bathing Houses."
He dragged his fingers through wet hair, brushing back his troublesome bangs as she described her young son, Soren. He fondly remembered the infant-days, or the "no-sleep-stinky-creature-I-hate-your-reproductive-system days" according to Armath, of his own children. Granted, his dragon was not overly fond of small babies, preferring human children far more when they were capable of basic thoughts and potty training. M'din recognized that the brown's aversion was a product of carrying Mariltin, his first child, during the Exile. Those were difficult times in their lives, tragedy appearing at every turn, but the rider pushed the depressing memories from his mind, focusing again on his new friend.
Peorray was probably a wonderful, firm mother, he decided. He hoped her young boy would grow up with a father, or at least a father-figure, knowing that many riders had no interest in their progeny. Those sorts of men were missing out on an incredible experience, in M'din's humble opinion. "One day I'll have to meet Soren," he told her. "Little ones are great fun when they aren't crying."
When Peorray questioned him about Impression, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, tapping his large hands on the water's surface. "I wouldn't call it foreign," he began. "Just different. It's like you have this really nice hut, and suddenly someone opens a door you've never noticed before. There's a room on the other side that doesn't belong to you, someone else decorated it, but it's such a pretty room and you love everything inside. It really ties the whole hut together now that you know it's open," he said, imagining how a room decorated by Armath would look.
With others, especially riders, M'din would have been exceedingly self-conscious about his Impression speech. He was aware of how childlike his explanation sounded, but he had always been of the school of thought that if an idea could be easily conveyed to another, both parties would fully understand it. Fancy, vague descriptions wouldn't make Impression any easier to comprehend for a non-rider, but a simple metaphor about a hut would.
Armath's quick wit could clarify any subject better than M'din's stumbling analogies, prompting him to ask her, "Would you like to meet Armath sometime? He's probably still asleep at the moment, but maybe you and Soren could sneak away later this sevenday." He chortled, scratching his soaked beard, "Maybe at a setting more appropriate than the Bathing Houses."
