01.Dec.19, 12:36 PM
When Kordiavis wanted to get away from everyone, his preferred spot was the plateau under one of the few random trees that had managed to take root once upon a time. Sure, it wasn’t exactly private and he knew for certain several others liked to get away up there as well but it was far less occupied than the Weyr itself and Kordiavis found most people didn’t make the trip.
So he was out there, under his tree, with paper and charcoal, working on the latest abstract creation that had crossed his mind. Or nightmare rather. He wasn’t prone to nightmares but since Thallyath’s clutch, he was starting to think those cursed eggs had opened up a doorway in his mind and let the dark images flow free. He supposed that made sense given the shit he had dealt with all his life. At least now he had more of an outlet since he no longer had to hide his creative endeavours or destroy them before they hurt his mother’s feelings or revealed too much about his own. Sometimes he hated Mylorah and how persuasive she could be.
Given Tazikel was back in his life now, opening up yet another door he had thought slammed firmly shut on repressed feelings and crushes, and the way Mylorah seemed so infatuated with the lordling, Kordiavis had a whole new set of headaches to deal with as well. Two beautiful people that were constantly all over each other and Mylorah sometimes teasing how she wanted them both. At the same time. His brain usually shutdown, unable to come up with his usual witty retorts so she was given an eye roll. Sure, he was down for the idea and not just because of Mylorah but he doubted Tazikel would feel the same way, even if they were both lavishing attention on the pretty girl requesting the party.
Tazikel was also just a horrible influence and hadn’t lost his touch when it came to dragging Kordiavis into whatever idea struck the easily distracted second son at any given time. He was tired and needed the day away from the world and bad decisions that led to hangovers—which he thankfully didn’t have that day. No, he only had charcoal-coated hands as the medium was messy to begin with but he was using his fingers as a blending tool that day.
Or he was trying to before someone stepped into his light, making it harder to see the detailing. He sighed, surprised he had been so caught up in his task that he hadn’t heard anyone approach and wondered how easily he could scare the interloper away.
“Get out of my light,” he ordered without looking up. He really didn’t care who it was. If it was one of his close friends, they would have announced themselves long before reaching him and they knew better than to mess with him when he was drawing or writing.
So he was out there, under his tree, with paper and charcoal, working on the latest abstract creation that had crossed his mind. Or nightmare rather. He wasn’t prone to nightmares but since Thallyath’s clutch, he was starting to think those cursed eggs had opened up a doorway in his mind and let the dark images flow free. He supposed that made sense given the shit he had dealt with all his life. At least now he had more of an outlet since he no longer had to hide his creative endeavours or destroy them before they hurt his mother’s feelings or revealed too much about his own. Sometimes he hated Mylorah and how persuasive she could be.
Given Tazikel was back in his life now, opening up yet another door he had thought slammed firmly shut on repressed feelings and crushes, and the way Mylorah seemed so infatuated with the lordling, Kordiavis had a whole new set of headaches to deal with as well. Two beautiful people that were constantly all over each other and Mylorah sometimes teasing how she wanted them both. At the same time. His brain usually shutdown, unable to come up with his usual witty retorts so she was given an eye roll. Sure, he was down for the idea and not just because of Mylorah but he doubted Tazikel would feel the same way, even if they were both lavishing attention on the pretty girl requesting the party.
Tazikel was also just a horrible influence and hadn’t lost his touch when it came to dragging Kordiavis into whatever idea struck the easily distracted second son at any given time. He was tired and needed the day away from the world and bad decisions that led to hangovers—which he thankfully didn’t have that day. No, he only had charcoal-coated hands as the medium was messy to begin with but he was using his fingers as a blending tool that day.
Or he was trying to before someone stepped into his light, making it harder to see the detailing. He sighed, surprised he had been so caught up in his task that he hadn’t heard anyone approach and wondered how easily he could scare the interloper away.
“Get out of my light,” he ordered without looking up. He really didn’t care who it was. If it was one of his close friends, they would have announced themselves long before reaching him and they knew better than to mess with him when he was drawing or writing.