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!
05.Jul.13, 12:46 PM
Not missing Kira's sudden defensiveness about her book, Warkhim licked his lips in delight. She tensed apprehensively, clearly concerned with his judgment (as she should be) and told him, miraculously without a stutter, that the novel's topic was dragons. The archivist clenched his teeth, but kept any other outward sign of displeasure from his visage. Idiot girl daydreaming about those fucking flying lizards, he internally seethed. Warkhim bitterly remembered his days as an Apprentice at the Harper Hall in Fort, when he was a younger man near Kira's current age, and how the riders strutted about the Hall and Hold like they owned everything around them. He recalled how they looked down upon those who didn't Impress, as if having a winged reptile between their legs made them better somehow, and how their terrible beasts could penetrate a person's mind with their voices, regardless of invitation. And now look, he thought. A convenient little disease gave them exactly what they deserved: exile.
Warkhim had been mentally raped, as he liked to think of it, by more than one talkative dragon when he was an Apprentice, especially hating the forced interactions with the smaller green females. They were obviously less intelligent than the others, though he couldn't claim to enjoy any of them, regardless of intellect, and were more likely to Impress to women and pansy, dick-loving men. Disgusting, he grimaced. I would at least have the decency to Impress a bronze and fuck the Queens. Though he'd never stood to Impress, and never had a desire to, Warkhim was solidly convinced he would have been a powerful, hyper-intelligent bronzerider if things had been different.
"Ah, dragons. A tragic tale, theirs," he said, eyelids lowering respectfully. He steered clear of further discussion, intent on not giving his unfavorable opinions away. The typical Telgarian attitude toward dragons had been generally friendlier than his, although the Holders had no issue banishing them to rot in the South for their own protection. He veered the conversation back to the family tree at Kira's request, happy to divert her from gushing over daydreams of dead dragons.
"Well, I had an interesting time trying to track you down in the first place. It was no issue finding your father's family," he pointed to Moran on the bloodline, "but your mother," he slid his nail over to Senski, "was a touch problematic." Twisting in his seat, Warkhim reached down to retrieve a hefty bound volume from his desk drawer (one of nearly forty, if his memory served him) that chronicled the lives of Derrigan of Telgar's ancestors. It was a halfway decent record, though it didn't include nearly enough of the dirtier scandals as far as Warkhim was concerned, of the Holders' history. "It took a bit of digging for me to find Senski's line, and the reason is this: she is loosely descended from Errichrom of Telgar, and I was not looking in my own family tree."
"It seems she is the great-granddaughter of Nisseri of Telgar, the Wayward Daughter, as they called her," he gestured to the book on the desk. "Which means, though you cannot claim a title, you are technically one of Derrigan of Telgar's second cousins, twice removed." Guiding her back to the official bloodline, he dragged his finger down to Nisseri of Telgar, "If this continued tracking Nisseri's lowborn relations, you'd eventually appear about four generations down."
With a strained smile, he lightly added, "That means you and I are very distantly related. You would be my third cousin, once removed."
Warkhim had been mentally raped, as he liked to think of it, by more than one talkative dragon when he was an Apprentice, especially hating the forced interactions with the smaller green females. They were obviously less intelligent than the others, though he couldn't claim to enjoy any of them, regardless of intellect, and were more likely to Impress to women and pansy, dick-loving men. Disgusting, he grimaced. I would at least have the decency to Impress a bronze and fuck the Queens. Though he'd never stood to Impress, and never had a desire to, Warkhim was solidly convinced he would have been a powerful, hyper-intelligent bronzerider if things had been different.
"Ah, dragons. A tragic tale, theirs," he said, eyelids lowering respectfully. He steered clear of further discussion, intent on not giving his unfavorable opinions away. The typical Telgarian attitude toward dragons had been generally friendlier than his, although the Holders had no issue banishing them to rot in the South for their own protection. He veered the conversation back to the family tree at Kira's request, happy to divert her from gushing over daydreams of dead dragons.
"Well, I had an interesting time trying to track you down in the first place. It was no issue finding your father's family," he pointed to Moran on the bloodline, "but your mother," he slid his nail over to Senski, "was a touch problematic." Twisting in his seat, Warkhim reached down to retrieve a hefty bound volume from his desk drawer (one of nearly forty, if his memory served him) that chronicled the lives of Derrigan of Telgar's ancestors. It was a halfway decent record, though it didn't include nearly enough of the dirtier scandals as far as Warkhim was concerned, of the Holders' history. "It took a bit of digging for me to find Senski's line, and the reason is this: she is loosely descended from Errichrom of Telgar, and I was not looking in my own family tree."
"It seems she is the great-granddaughter of Nisseri of Telgar, the Wayward Daughter, as they called her," he gestured to the book on the desk. "Which means, though you cannot claim a title, you are technically one of Derrigan of Telgar's second cousins, twice removed." Guiding her back to the official bloodline, he dragged his finger down to Nisseri of Telgar, "If this continued tracking Nisseri's lowborn relations, you'd eventually appear about four generations down."
With a strained smile, he lightly added, "That means you and I are very distantly related. You would be my third cousin, once removed."
