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!
22.Oct.16, 02:05 AM
He didn’t know why he was back in High Reaches after all the years spent in the South after fleeing from the Plague. He had even requested that he be Weyrleader anywhere but High Reaches when he was selected to act like an adult and run a Weyr over a year ago. But now, curiosity had the best of him and M’ris wanted to see what the old Weyr looked like now and perhaps scope out the Hold and market.
It had been difficult seeing the Weyr, still a little rough around the edges but now functioning as it once did. It still held too many memories of a time that had been happy but now brought pain when he thought on it too long. All he could think about when he idly walked the grounds was Sarendall and the time they had spent together and then the time without her after she died while in exile. It was starting to take its toll on his mental well-being and even Mosiath was beginning to point out the benefits of leaving, perhaps even for a drink, and the great bronze beast never encourage him to drink.
After doing his best to still sound sane and congratulate Weyrleader A’dris on his efforts with the Weyr, M’ris made a quick departure for the Hold’s market, intent on finding a pub. As much as he didn’t want to remain in High Reaches, he also didn’t want to return to his new home of Ista Weyr just yet and face any responsibilities and decisions waiting for him. Besides, if he still had to travel, he’d watch the amount of alcohol he was about to consume as he’d never put Mosiath’s life in risk.
Once at the pub, the bronzerider ordered two mugs of the strongest ale they had and sat down at corner table, clearly giving off the vibe he wanted to be left alone. He wasn’t normally anti-social but the trip he knew he shouldn’t have taken but did so anyway had messed too much with his head and emotions and now he just wanted to be alone. He knew he had to continue moving on with his life, which he had been doing for a while after sobering up from his binge drinking and even more recently with being a Weyrleader and being someone Ameris wouldn’t regret having to associate with thanks to their dragons’ fondness of each other and him getting her pregnant.
Having a child with the beautiful goldrider was a bit tough to handle at first since Ameris already bore a small similarity to Sarendall but it reminded him of something else that had been left in the North during their quick exit. He had had two daughters with Sarendall who were still toddlers at the time of the Plague. Thinking they wouldn’t be gone long and it was safer for the babies to stay North instead of taking the long travel South, they had left the girls with their favourite crèche worker that was going to head to the Hold and seek refuge there until they returned.
Of course, they never did, at least not until two decades later.
At the time of the reunion in what would be called Katila, M’ris didn’t give much thought to the girls as he was heartbroken over losing Sarendall to illness during the exile and simply wanting to drink away the pain when alcohol became readily available. Years passed by before M’ris permitted himself to think about the children and happy life the four of them would have had but Tsuen still had them banned from returning North and the bronzerider continued to forget about what he had and could still have and focused on rebuilding his life.
Now that he was in the North again, M’ris toyed with the idea of trying to find his daughters but he wasn’t quite sure where to begin. They’d be old enough to be married off now and could be anywhere. There was also the chance of neither of them wanting to see him or have anything to do with him. He had, after all, abandoned them and never returned.
He was halfway through his second mug when a woman entered the pub, delivered a box of food to the maid at the counter, and left again without so much as a glance around the room. It had been enough, though, for M’ris to choke on his drink and stare at the door that she had disappeared out of. The woman looked so much like Sarendall that he felt like he had seen her ghost. But he didn’t think he was that crazy yet to start seeing her again. There had been a dark time in exile that he alternated between mourning her until he wanted to die and swearing he saw her roaming around their little piece of earth that they called home. This seemed different, however, and M’ris was quickly running out the door to see if he could find the mysterious woman and confirm she was real and who she was.
He hadn’t been quick enough, though. By the time he was out the door, the woman wasn’t in sight. Whether she was a fast walker or slipped inside another building, M’ris wasn’t sure and didn’t think it’d be appropriate to ask around for her, especially if he did just make her or at least her resemblance up.
You do know there is another reason for what you saw, right? Mosiath had remained silent for most of the trip, letting his rider sort through everything on his own, but M’ris was starting to get a bit fuzzy in their connection and concern was taking over. Do you remember their names? Maybe ask around for them in that way, instead of asking for the pretty girl that delivers bread.
M’ris shot an annoyed glare in the direction he knew Mosiath was waiting and let out a huff of breath. Of course I remember their names! I drank to forget the pain, not any of my girls. Sarendall and their two daughters; Renris and Saris. Saris was only a year old when they left the girls behind but M’ris wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d be forgiven no matter what age they were then or now. Suddenly afraid of that confrontation, the bronzerider gave up on the search for the woman that looked so much like his dead mate and headed back for his dragon.
He needed to think on what he may have discovered and how to approach if he were to. How would he explain who he was? How did he justify staying away for so long, even if most of that time was against his dragon’s will to leave? Definitely questions to think on while he also pondered how much of a coward he was to see if he’d ever come back. For all he knew the girls thought he was dead and wouldn’t need to see him or they hated him and would rather believe him dead than to see what their father was really like.
Mounting up, M’ris gave the order to head back to Ista where his new life was waiting.
It had been difficult seeing the Weyr, still a little rough around the edges but now functioning as it once did. It still held too many memories of a time that had been happy but now brought pain when he thought on it too long. All he could think about when he idly walked the grounds was Sarendall and the time they had spent together and then the time without her after she died while in exile. It was starting to take its toll on his mental well-being and even Mosiath was beginning to point out the benefits of leaving, perhaps even for a drink, and the great bronze beast never encourage him to drink.
After doing his best to still sound sane and congratulate Weyrleader A’dris on his efforts with the Weyr, M’ris made a quick departure for the Hold’s market, intent on finding a pub. As much as he didn’t want to remain in High Reaches, he also didn’t want to return to his new home of Ista Weyr just yet and face any responsibilities and decisions waiting for him. Besides, if he still had to travel, he’d watch the amount of alcohol he was about to consume as he’d never put Mosiath’s life in risk.
Once at the pub, the bronzerider ordered two mugs of the strongest ale they had and sat down at corner table, clearly giving off the vibe he wanted to be left alone. He wasn’t normally anti-social but the trip he knew he shouldn’t have taken but did so anyway had messed too much with his head and emotions and now he just wanted to be alone. He knew he had to continue moving on with his life, which he had been doing for a while after sobering up from his binge drinking and even more recently with being a Weyrleader and being someone Ameris wouldn’t regret having to associate with thanks to their dragons’ fondness of each other and him getting her pregnant.
Having a child with the beautiful goldrider was a bit tough to handle at first since Ameris already bore a small similarity to Sarendall but it reminded him of something else that had been left in the North during their quick exit. He had had two daughters with Sarendall who were still toddlers at the time of the Plague. Thinking they wouldn’t be gone long and it was safer for the babies to stay North instead of taking the long travel South, they had left the girls with their favourite crèche worker that was going to head to the Hold and seek refuge there until they returned.
Of course, they never did, at least not until two decades later.
At the time of the reunion in what would be called Katila, M’ris didn’t give much thought to the girls as he was heartbroken over losing Sarendall to illness during the exile and simply wanting to drink away the pain when alcohol became readily available. Years passed by before M’ris permitted himself to think about the children and happy life the four of them would have had but Tsuen still had them banned from returning North and the bronzerider continued to forget about what he had and could still have and focused on rebuilding his life.
Now that he was in the North again, M’ris toyed with the idea of trying to find his daughters but he wasn’t quite sure where to begin. They’d be old enough to be married off now and could be anywhere. There was also the chance of neither of them wanting to see him or have anything to do with him. He had, after all, abandoned them and never returned.
He was halfway through his second mug when a woman entered the pub, delivered a box of food to the maid at the counter, and left again without so much as a glance around the room. It had been enough, though, for M’ris to choke on his drink and stare at the door that she had disappeared out of. The woman looked so much like Sarendall that he felt like he had seen her ghost. But he didn’t think he was that crazy yet to start seeing her again. There had been a dark time in exile that he alternated between mourning her until he wanted to die and swearing he saw her roaming around their little piece of earth that they called home. This seemed different, however, and M’ris was quickly running out the door to see if he could find the mysterious woman and confirm she was real and who she was.
He hadn’t been quick enough, though. By the time he was out the door, the woman wasn’t in sight. Whether she was a fast walker or slipped inside another building, M’ris wasn’t sure and didn’t think it’d be appropriate to ask around for her, especially if he did just make her or at least her resemblance up.
You do know there is another reason for what you saw, right? Mosiath had remained silent for most of the trip, letting his rider sort through everything on his own, but M’ris was starting to get a bit fuzzy in their connection and concern was taking over. Do you remember their names? Maybe ask around for them in that way, instead of asking for the pretty girl that delivers bread.
M’ris shot an annoyed glare in the direction he knew Mosiath was waiting and let out a huff of breath. Of course I remember their names! I drank to forget the pain, not any of my girls. Sarendall and their two daughters; Renris and Saris. Saris was only a year old when they left the girls behind but M’ris wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d be forgiven no matter what age they were then or now. Suddenly afraid of that confrontation, the bronzerider gave up on the search for the woman that looked so much like his dead mate and headed back for his dragon.
He needed to think on what he may have discovered and how to approach if he were to. How would he explain who he was? How did he justify staying away for so long, even if most of that time was against his dragon’s will to leave? Definitely questions to think on while he also pondered how much of a coward he was to see if he’d ever come back. For all he knew the girls thought he was dead and wouldn’t need to see him or they hated him and would rather believe him dead than to see what their father was really like.
Mounting up, M’ris gave the order to head back to Ista where his new life was waiting.
