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!
10.Aug.19, 12:06 PM
Mylorah was nibbling on her lower lip and clinging onto Misharan’s hand when the first dragonet began its appearance. She wanted to have faith that everything would be fine for her friends but when that tiny head poked free, she knew it wouldn’t be. That wasn’t a healthy baby and it further proved the point with the way it could barely move and then stopped. She gasped and her free hand covered her mouth to keep from making any further noise. It was just so quiet and she didn’t want to be the one making noise.
And then she wasn’t as dragons started keening.
And then, just like when she touched an egg, she was back in the night of the landslide. Covered in mud, confused, scared, and all she could hear was dragons keening. So much keening. So many dead. Her mother, her brother, friends, a greenrider that was way too old to show interest in a young girl but she still had a crush on anyway…
“No… no, no, no, stop…” Mylorah was practically whimpering as she pleaded for the dragons to stop, hands going to her ears to help block out the noise that would never truly leave her mind. It was always there, lurking behind happy memories, waiting to jump out at her when she least expected it. Sometimes it still got her while she slept, turning a pleasant dream into a repeating scene she couldn’t escape. How many times did she have to watch them die?
She was crying by the time her knees buckled and she found herself sitting on the hot sand, barely registering the heat as she pressed her hands tighter to her ears. If anyone tried to comfort her or get her back to her feet, she didn’t notice, lost again in her world of pain.
It was only by luck that her wild unseeing eyes came to a rest at the stands and though it took a moment, she started to recognise their faces. T’ryn and A’tay both grown, not young or newly Impressed, and showing as much concern as their father. Her father, R’nd… right, he knew who she was now. N’mor, another cute boy she had a crush on long ago sitting with his mate and giving her a look that screamed he expected her to get up and be stronger. And Tazikel… oh Faranth! He had just seen her have a meltdown of epic proportions! If he still had any interest in her after their time at the Gather, she probably just killed it.
Taking a few deep breaths, Mylorah rose to her feet, taking a moment to dust any sand from her robe—as if that would make the thing more attractive. She offered the men sitting together a small smile to show she was fine, though she made sure not to look back at the little green that didn’t make it. The dragons had finished their mourning as well, aiding in her recovery as she watched the next egg cracking. This time, she didn’t hope for the best outcome, only that she held it together when the keening started again.
And then she wasn’t as dragons started keening.
And then, just like when she touched an egg, she was back in the night of the landslide. Covered in mud, confused, scared, and all she could hear was dragons keening. So much keening. So many dead. Her mother, her brother, friends, a greenrider that was way too old to show interest in a young girl but she still had a crush on anyway…
“No… no, no, no, stop…” Mylorah was practically whimpering as she pleaded for the dragons to stop, hands going to her ears to help block out the noise that would never truly leave her mind. It was always there, lurking behind happy memories, waiting to jump out at her when she least expected it. Sometimes it still got her while she slept, turning a pleasant dream into a repeating scene she couldn’t escape. How many times did she have to watch them die?
She was crying by the time her knees buckled and she found herself sitting on the hot sand, barely registering the heat as she pressed her hands tighter to her ears. If anyone tried to comfort her or get her back to her feet, she didn’t notice, lost again in her world of pain.
It was only by luck that her wild unseeing eyes came to a rest at the stands and though it took a moment, she started to recognise their faces. T’ryn and A’tay both grown, not young or newly Impressed, and showing as much concern as their father. Her father, R’nd… right, he knew who she was now. N’mor, another cute boy she had a crush on long ago sitting with his mate and giving her a look that screamed he expected her to get up and be stronger. And Tazikel… oh Faranth! He had just seen her have a meltdown of epic proportions! If he still had any interest in her after their time at the Gather, she probably just killed it.
Taking a few deep breaths, Mylorah rose to her feet, taking a moment to dust any sand from her robe—as if that would make the thing more attractive. She offered the men sitting together a small smile to show she was fine, though she made sure not to look back at the little green that didn’t make it. The dragons had finished their mourning as well, aiding in her recovery as she watched the next egg cracking. This time, she didn’t hope for the best outcome, only that she held it together when the keening started again.
