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!
04.Oct.17, 01:21 AM
Z’ia yawned lazily, running his free hand back through his mop of lengthy curls. He should probably get his hair trimmed, but he liked having it shoulder length, though he occasionally found it irritating it was nothing a leather strip couldn’t fix. Sitting up, Z’ia looked down at the other body sprawled out beside him, and rolled his eyes. The woman there was nothing special, and while Z’ia had enjoyed the game of cat and mouse to get her into his bed, he hadn’t been particularly satisfied with the results. She was plain, and unimaginative; he’d had more interesting sex with Rhaedalyn, and she’d made virgins look devious.
Rolling out of bed, and ignoring the way the woman mumbled to herself, he had barely managed to pull his pants on and tie the front of them when there was a tap at his door and a messenger was letting themselves in. Normally, Z’ia would have taken issue with that, but since the other man was a brownrider, he let it slide and instead raised an eyebrow, wondering what could be so important that he – of all people – was interrupted so early in the morning… Well. Okay, so it wasn’t morning, but he had just woken up. Above him, a rush of cold air fell down as Plague appeared out of between and hissed her disgust at the brownrider, who scolded. Z’ia quietened the firelizard with a touch. Destiny and Chastity had landed on the foot of the bed, no less disgruntled but keeping it to themselves.
“Can I help you?” Z’ia asked, not bothering to modulate his tone out of respect for his bedmate; he honestly didn’t care if he woke her up. Despite that, his tone was mild as he watched the brownrider step into the room and offer him a roll of parchment, sealed and tied. Z’ia took it, his eyebrow once more arching upwards in question.
“That’s for the Weyrleader at Fort.” The brownrider said, before turning around and leaving as abruptly as he had entered. Z’ia looked down at the roll, and rolled his eyes heavenward with a mighty sigh. He knew who was to blame for this – D’hys. Faranth only knew what the bastard was playing at; it could be as simple as wanting to catch up, or as complicated as wanting to watch him play messenger for someone else. Rolling his eyes again and removing Plague lightly from his shoulder, Z’ia went about dressing for the day, which now included playing damned messenger for Weyrleaders too “busy” to make political trips themselves. He was sorely tempted to crack the seal and read the missive.
Where are you? Z’ia asked, surprised, when he stepped out to the dragon’s lounge and found it short one beautiful blue dragon. Z’ia waited patiently for a response, and smiled gently when he saw his dragon winging in and land lightly with a scrabble of claws on rock.I’m sorry! You were sleeping so soundly, I thought I’d go hunting while you slept. Z’ia smiled gently at his dragon, and ran a hand reassuringly over the soft blue muzzle.
“It is fine, my love. I was simply surprised. We have a task to fulfil. How do you feel about a trip to Fort?”
Can I visit with Aradissicath? Aveleth asked sweetly, turning his head to peer at Z’ia with an anxiously hopeful eye. Z’ia smiled gently, and gave his dragon a pat before going to get their riding straps. Getting the straps onto Aveleth, Z’ia climbed up on board, ignoring the woman when she called out a greeting to him. Aveleth didn’t comment on the exchange (or lack thereof) as he shuffled to the edge of the weyr and prepared to take off.
“I’m sure Aradissicath would love to see you, Ave. It’s been a while since you got to spend time with her, hasn’t it?” They both knew that was his fault, since his messy breakup with Rhaedalyn, but Aveleth simple chirped happily at the permission to see his golden friend, not prying into the memories Z’ia had of that time. The strange meshing of emotions those memories brought up in Z’ia confused and disturbed Aveleth on a level he wasn’t sure how to handle. His rider took pleasure in the strangest of things, but Aveleth knew he’d never take pleasure in seeing the blue dragon in pain: he’d seen Z’ia moved to rage at the mere thought. Shaking the thoughts away, the blue dragon launched off the ledge, and quickly gained altitude until Z’ia confirmed their trip between. The blue pair vanished into the black abyss.
A few heartbeats later, Z’ia was safely on the ground and Aveleth was crooning to his rider before ambling off towards the Hatching Sands, thinking to look there first for Aradissicath. Z’ia, leaving his dragon to his socialising, marched into the Weyr and looked around curiously. He’d been to Fort a few times, but mostly avoided it, since he didn’t trust R’nya to keep his fists to himself now he was fucking Rhaedalyn. Speaking of the boy-thin goldrider, Z’ia looked around curiously for her, but didn’t actively seek the woman out as he made his way – following instructions from a couple of different dragonriders – towards the Weyrleader’s office. He knocked on the door, and then pushed it open. It hadn’t been locked, and it was empty inside. Z’ia grimaced, then shrugged to himself and entered.
Drawing the chair on the guest side of the desk, the short bluerider sprawled in it, kicking his heels up on the edge of the desk and tilting the chair back on its back legs. He brushed his curls out of his face with one hand, and hummed tunelessly to himself as he waited for R’nya to arrive. He’d already asked Aveleth to pass on that he was waiting for the Weyrleader in the man’s office with a missive. As he hummed, Plague popped out of between once more, looking around the room with a disgruntled expression on her snide little face, before landing lightly on Z’ia’s knee. She picked up his humming, chittering to herself and in much better tune than the bluerider.
Private thread for Rhaedalyn
Event: Horrifying Moments
Rolling out of bed, and ignoring the way the woman mumbled to herself, he had barely managed to pull his pants on and tie the front of them when there was a tap at his door and a messenger was letting themselves in. Normally, Z’ia would have taken issue with that, but since the other man was a brownrider, he let it slide and instead raised an eyebrow, wondering what could be so important that he – of all people – was interrupted so early in the morning… Well. Okay, so it wasn’t morning, but he had just woken up. Above him, a rush of cold air fell down as Plague appeared out of between and hissed her disgust at the brownrider, who scolded. Z’ia quietened the firelizard with a touch. Destiny and Chastity had landed on the foot of the bed, no less disgruntled but keeping it to themselves.
“Can I help you?” Z’ia asked, not bothering to modulate his tone out of respect for his bedmate; he honestly didn’t care if he woke her up. Despite that, his tone was mild as he watched the brownrider step into the room and offer him a roll of parchment, sealed and tied. Z’ia took it, his eyebrow once more arching upwards in question.
“That’s for the Weyrleader at Fort.” The brownrider said, before turning around and leaving as abruptly as he had entered. Z’ia looked down at the roll, and rolled his eyes heavenward with a mighty sigh. He knew who was to blame for this – D’hys. Faranth only knew what the bastard was playing at; it could be as simple as wanting to catch up, or as complicated as wanting to watch him play messenger for someone else. Rolling his eyes again and removing Plague lightly from his shoulder, Z’ia went about dressing for the day, which now included playing damned messenger for Weyrleaders too “busy” to make political trips themselves. He was sorely tempted to crack the seal and read the missive.
Where are you? Z’ia asked, surprised, when he stepped out to the dragon’s lounge and found it short one beautiful blue dragon. Z’ia waited patiently for a response, and smiled gently when he saw his dragon winging in and land lightly with a scrabble of claws on rock.
“It is fine, my love. I was simply surprised. We have a task to fulfil. How do you feel about a trip to Fort?”
“I’m sure Aradissicath would love to see you, Ave. It’s been a while since you got to spend time with her, hasn’t it?” They both knew that was his fault, since his messy breakup with Rhaedalyn, but Aveleth simple chirped happily at the permission to see his golden friend, not prying into the memories Z’ia had of that time. The strange meshing of emotions those memories brought up in Z’ia confused and disturbed Aveleth on a level he wasn’t sure how to handle. His rider took pleasure in the strangest of things, but Aveleth knew he’d never take pleasure in seeing the blue dragon in pain: he’d seen Z’ia moved to rage at the mere thought. Shaking the thoughts away, the blue dragon launched off the ledge, and quickly gained altitude until Z’ia confirmed their trip between. The blue pair vanished into the black abyss.
A few heartbeats later, Z’ia was safely on the ground and Aveleth was crooning to his rider before ambling off towards the Hatching Sands, thinking to look there first for Aradissicath. Z’ia, leaving his dragon to his socialising, marched into the Weyr and looked around curiously. He’d been to Fort a few times, but mostly avoided it, since he didn’t trust R’nya to keep his fists to himself now he was fucking Rhaedalyn. Speaking of the boy-thin goldrider, Z’ia looked around curiously for her, but didn’t actively seek the woman out as he made his way – following instructions from a couple of different dragonriders – towards the Weyrleader’s office. He knocked on the door, and then pushed it open. It hadn’t been locked, and it was empty inside. Z’ia grimaced, then shrugged to himself and entered.
Drawing the chair on the guest side of the desk, the short bluerider sprawled in it, kicking his heels up on the edge of the desk and tilting the chair back on its back legs. He brushed his curls out of his face with one hand, and hummed tunelessly to himself as he waited for R’nya to arrive. He’d already asked Aveleth to pass on that he was waiting for the Weyrleader in the man’s office with a missive. As he hummed, Plague popped out of between once more, looking around the room with a disgruntled expression on her snide little face, before landing lightly on Z’ia’s knee. She picked up his humming, chittering to herself and in much better tune than the bluerider.
Private thread for Rhaedalyn
Event: Horrifying Moments
