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!
17.Jun.14, 03:58 PM
R’nya, sighing out a gentle breath as he composed himself, set his hand on the handle and was in the process of letting himself out of the room when the sound of sobbing slammed into him like a forty tonne dragon, and the man stumbled physically against the door for a moment. Spinning around to stare in shocked horror at where Rhaedalyn was still hiding; pale eyes were huge in his evenly tanned face. He stared as she sat up, hesitant to impose on her personal space.
He was trying to find a way in which to respond; she wasn’t just Rhaedalyn, and R’nya was slightly insulted on her behalf that the girl thought so little of herself. Wide pale eyes blinked and he shook his head slightly, “You can’t leave!” R’nya spluttered, looking horrified, and forgetting to speak his words without contractions. “You’re not dressed!” A fact that was made extremely apparent when Rhaedalyn appeared to take his flustered words as a challenge and stood up in a graceful motion, and oh dear Faranth.
R’nya liked to consider himself a gentleman, and he certainly went out of his way to be proper and polite to the young women that he found his time so regularly spent with. Many of them, being Hold and Hall bred, were unused to the more crass nature of some of the other dragonriders or the rough manner in which some of the younger folk had been raised to embrace. He liked to try and give them a bit of security and familiarity; for them to know there was at least one person – one man – within the community that didn’t think of shoving them between sheets or against a wall every time they were looked at.
Something R’nya was failing spectacularly at as he watched Rhaedalyn with very little apparent concern for her own comfort or modesty. Hungry eyes watched the way the gentle and murky light danced across her pale skin as she fought to put on the light slip, barely hearing the words the girl was mumbling. Something about Z’ia that would have made R’nya’s lip curl with distaste if he were not so busy drinking in the sight of the not-so-naked now Rhaedalyn. ‘Cuddles’ caught his ear, but he wasn’t really interested in cuddling, not unless it lead to far more interesting activities and R’nya closed his eyes, staring at the ceiling behind the lids, as he tried desperately to control himself.
The sound of Rhaedalyn flopping onto the edge of the bed had R’nya’s eyes bugging open once more, his breath catching as his imagination ran away excitedly, before crushing him traitorously when he realised Rhaedalyn was crying. Again. When had he so spectacularly lost the ability to make Rhaedalyn smile? Had he not once been so wonderfully gifted with making her laugh, sometimes so much so that she would even forget to hide her mouth behind her hand? R’nya closed the distance between them in quick steps, and dropped to the floor before Rhaedalyn, reaching up gently to steal the dress from her fingers.
“Oh, Rhaedalyn, I could never hate you.” Putting the poor dress aside, R’nya gently brushed away tears with an oil-softened thumb, pushing her lengthening hair back from her face, where stray strands had stuck to the salty little tracks her tears had left behind. He smiled very faintly, the expression warming his eyes, which were searching Rhaedalyn’s, “you need not steal cuddles, my dear. You are welcome to them whenever you wish.”
She’s already done plenty of stealing, Xyreith drawled, half to Aradissicath and half to R’nya (who was far too occupied with the teary woman to pay any attention. Such a waste), as he turned his attention back to the young gold and settled down once more, pressing into her personal space with all the airs of someone clearly baiting for a response, his attitude smug. You didn’t even try this time, he smirked, eyes swirling happily as he tried to tempt her into throwing a tantrum.
He was trying to find a way in which to respond; she wasn’t just Rhaedalyn, and R’nya was slightly insulted on her behalf that the girl thought so little of herself. Wide pale eyes blinked and he shook his head slightly, “You can’t leave!” R’nya spluttered, looking horrified, and forgetting to speak his words without contractions. “You’re not dressed!” A fact that was made extremely apparent when Rhaedalyn appeared to take his flustered words as a challenge and stood up in a graceful motion, and oh dear Faranth.
R’nya liked to consider himself a gentleman, and he certainly went out of his way to be proper and polite to the young women that he found his time so regularly spent with. Many of them, being Hold and Hall bred, were unused to the more crass nature of some of the other dragonriders or the rough manner in which some of the younger folk had been raised to embrace. He liked to try and give them a bit of security and familiarity; for them to know there was at least one person – one man – within the community that didn’t think of shoving them between sheets or against a wall every time they were looked at.
Something R’nya was failing spectacularly at as he watched Rhaedalyn with very little apparent concern for her own comfort or modesty. Hungry eyes watched the way the gentle and murky light danced across her pale skin as she fought to put on the light slip, barely hearing the words the girl was mumbling. Something about Z’ia that would have made R’nya’s lip curl with distaste if he were not so busy drinking in the sight of the not-so-naked now Rhaedalyn. ‘Cuddles’ caught his ear, but he wasn’t really interested in cuddling, not unless it lead to far more interesting activities and R’nya closed his eyes, staring at the ceiling behind the lids, as he tried desperately to control himself.
The sound of Rhaedalyn flopping onto the edge of the bed had R’nya’s eyes bugging open once more, his breath catching as his imagination ran away excitedly, before crushing him traitorously when he realised Rhaedalyn was crying. Again. When had he so spectacularly lost the ability to make Rhaedalyn smile? Had he not once been so wonderfully gifted with making her laugh, sometimes so much so that she would even forget to hide her mouth behind her hand? R’nya closed the distance between them in quick steps, and dropped to the floor before Rhaedalyn, reaching up gently to steal the dress from her fingers.
“Oh, Rhaedalyn, I could never hate you.” Putting the poor dress aside, R’nya gently brushed away tears with an oil-softened thumb, pushing her lengthening hair back from her face, where stray strands had stuck to the salty little tracks her tears had left behind. He smiled very faintly, the expression warming his eyes, which were searching Rhaedalyn’s, “you need not steal cuddles, my dear. You are welcome to them whenever you wish.”
