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.18, 03:42 AM
F’drel was stunned. This lord convinced the Weyrleader to lie to him? Well, not exactly lie, more like omit essential information, which was just as bad. At least Jalazmar had admitted to it being a ploy. Not that it made F’drel feel much better, but he did appreciate people not playing games with him and just saying things outright. Even if those things were ‘hi, I manipulated you into meeting me.’
He jumped at the knock on the door, half expecting it to be the Weyrleader despite Jalazmar just saying what he was doing. Instead, it was one of the Lower Caverns workers, a girl F’drel had met a few times. Her hands were full with a jug and some cups, and he couldn’t help eyeing the jug warily. F’drel hadn’t always been so paranoid about drinks, but he’d learned the habit in his teens and Casa’s camping trip had only made the tendency worse in recent months.
Jerking his head to look back at Jalazmar when the lord started speaking again F’drel had to work extremely hard not to show any expression. Speak openly? With a lord? Sure, he’d consider it when Miri turned gold. He internally berated himself when Jalazmar revealed he’d noticed F’drel was nervous when in his house. Stupid. Had to get better at hiding things, clearly he was out of practice. Gingerly he sat down in the other chair, keeping his posture stiff and upright. He took the remaining cup, confirming it was juice, and brought it to his lips but didn’t take a sip. Just in case. It would let him see how Jalazmar reacted to thinking he’d had some of the drink. The fact he was in the Weyrleader’s office and, in theory, that provided him, as a dragonrider, some protection didn’t even occur to him. F’drel’s sense of the world had focused in to just the person in front of him. Jalazmar was a lord, and lords did what they wanted when they could get away with it. That was just how it was.
He almost laughed at Jalazmar’s last statement, after which he seemed to want a response. Something he could do to help F’drel be less nervous around him? It took all of F’drel’s willpower to keep himself from blurting out ‘not this.’ Instead, he quickly formulated something that wasn’t technically a lie but not exactly the truth — an omission, which seemed fair considering how he’d gotten here in the first place.
“You were fostered at Nabol for a time as I recall, my Lord,” he started slowly, analyzing and reanalyzing every word before he said it, “while the Hold was still run by Lord Janderian.” F’drel was pretty sure Jalazmar had returned to High Reaches the same turn Janderian died, but he couldn’t recall if it had happened before his death or as a result of the regime change. His own mother had just died, and most of the turn was a blur, between her death and Jimeridan becoming Lord Nabol, so he couldn’t remember exactly when Jalazmar had left. However, he’d definitely been there under Janderian, which meant his story would work.
“You may recall he was very particular about how things were done in his household. He didn’t like us relaxing when there were better things to be doing. And there was always better things to be doing, of course, so if we took a few minutes to rest and spend time together you had to be on alert at all times or you would get yelled at.” F’drel shrugged, trying to keep the motion casual, and not scripted, “Growing up like that, it’s just habit now. I know you’ve given permission, but it’s hard to shake ingrained reactions like that. It’s just a time thing, I think, and I’ll get over it with time.” That last bit was a blatant lie, of course. F’drel was assuredly never going to drop his guard in a lord’s home. Not ever.
Hopefully, Jalazmar would accept his explanation. It really was true, other than him getting over it with time, it just wasn’t the main reason F’drel was so jumpy in the lord’s house. But he was in no way willing to explain that he expected any lord to eventually try to force F’drel to sleep with him. Especially since that reaction was Rinderian’s fault, and he was only a turn older than Jalazmar — F’drel was pretty sure they’d been friends while Jalazmar was fostered, though he had no idea if they’d kept in touch. Telling the lord his childhood friend had taken advantage of him for turns likely wouldn’t go over well. No, he would not be explaining that to Jalazmar.
He jumped at the knock on the door, half expecting it to be the Weyrleader despite Jalazmar just saying what he was doing. Instead, it was one of the Lower Caverns workers, a girl F’drel had met a few times. Her hands were full with a jug and some cups, and he couldn’t help eyeing the jug warily. F’drel hadn’t always been so paranoid about drinks, but he’d learned the habit in his teens and Casa’s camping trip had only made the tendency worse in recent months.
Jerking his head to look back at Jalazmar when the lord started speaking again F’drel had to work extremely hard not to show any expression. Speak openly? With a lord? Sure, he’d consider it when Miri turned gold. He internally berated himself when Jalazmar revealed he’d noticed F’drel was nervous when in his house. Stupid. Had to get better at hiding things, clearly he was out of practice. Gingerly he sat down in the other chair, keeping his posture stiff and upright. He took the remaining cup, confirming it was juice, and brought it to his lips but didn’t take a sip. Just in case. It would let him see how Jalazmar reacted to thinking he’d had some of the drink. The fact he was in the Weyrleader’s office and, in theory, that provided him, as a dragonrider, some protection didn’t even occur to him. F’drel’s sense of the world had focused in to just the person in front of him. Jalazmar was a lord, and lords did what they wanted when they could get away with it. That was just how it was.
He almost laughed at Jalazmar’s last statement, after which he seemed to want a response. Something he could do to help F’drel be less nervous around him? It took all of F’drel’s willpower to keep himself from blurting out ‘not this.’ Instead, he quickly formulated something that wasn’t technically a lie but not exactly the truth — an omission, which seemed fair considering how he’d gotten here in the first place.
“You were fostered at Nabol for a time as I recall, my Lord,” he started slowly, analyzing and reanalyzing every word before he said it, “while the Hold was still run by Lord Janderian.” F’drel was pretty sure Jalazmar had returned to High Reaches the same turn Janderian died, but he couldn’t recall if it had happened before his death or as a result of the regime change. His own mother had just died, and most of the turn was a blur, between her death and Jimeridan becoming Lord Nabol, so he couldn’t remember exactly when Jalazmar had left. However, he’d definitely been there under Janderian, which meant his story would work.
“You may recall he was very particular about how things were done in his household. He didn’t like us relaxing when there were better things to be doing. And there was always better things to be doing, of course, so if we took a few minutes to rest and spend time together you had to be on alert at all times or you would get yelled at.” F’drel shrugged, trying to keep the motion casual, and not scripted, “Growing up like that, it’s just habit now. I know you’ve given permission, but it’s hard to shake ingrained reactions like that. It’s just a time thing, I think, and I’ll get over it with time.” That last bit was a blatant lie, of course. F’drel was assuredly never going to drop his guard in a lord’s home. Not ever.
Hopefully, Jalazmar would accept his explanation. It really was true, other than him getting over it with time, it just wasn’t the main reason F’drel was so jumpy in the lord’s house. But he was in no way willing to explain that he expected any lord to eventually try to force F’drel to sleep with him. Especially since that reaction was Rinderian’s fault, and he was only a turn older than Jalazmar — F’drel was pretty sure they’d been friends while Jalazmar was fostered, though he had no idea if they’d kept in touch. Telling the lord his childhood friend had taken advantage of him for turns likely wouldn’t go over well. No, he would not be explaining that to Jalazmar.
