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!
06.Mar.21, 07:49 AM
N’mor was humming quietly to himself as he worked on a piece of Rhezalth’s harness. He was holding part of the harness between his knees while he worked an oiled cloth into his current section, taking care to be thorough and do a good job. While Rhezalth was hardly a dangerous flier, N’mor knew it didn’t take more than the unexpected events nature could throw at a Rider and his dragon to leave them relying solely on the straps. Much wiser to be cautious.
On the ledge in the sun, Rhezalth was sprawled out and taking up a ridiculous amount of space. It wasn’t often that there was room for such, but while Z’rin had gone to visit friends, Varralath had gone with him. Or perhaps to socialise on his own for a while. Either way, he wasn’t in the weyr, which meant N’mor’s lump of a bronze was taking up all the room enjoying the late evening sunshine.
N’mor looked up and over at his dragon, also being in the dragon alcove, and raised a brow as Rhezalth seemed to startle awake, and shook his head as he lifted it, craning to peer out and down towards the bowl. “What is it?” N’mor asked, curious, but more focused on his work than whatever had caught his dragon’s eye.Iliyith, Rhezalth said, with a slight frown in his voice, and he stood up suddenly, giving himself a thorough shake and spreading his wings slightly. She bloods.
“Oh, okay,” N’mor replied absently, before his dragon’s words really processed and he blinked rapidly, lifting his chin to stare at Rhezalth. “Oh.” He said again, then sighed heavily. “Off you go, then.” Rhezalth seemed slightly irritated – probably because he didn’t get a personal invitation or notification that the gold was ready to fly – and N’mor snorted to himself as he packed up, and wiped his oily hand on his thigh, leaving marks on the worn out pants.
“One of us needs to invest in a firelizard,” N’mor muttered to himself as he made his way through the weyr and out the door, closing it quietly behind himself. He had no idea where Z’rin was, but knew the bluerider would be cheering on Rhezalth and, N’mor guessed, himself. Not that he was thrilled by what Rhezalth winning would mean. Helyna was a nice enough woman, but N’mor much preferred her with her clothing on. And him in his, too!
Rhezalth’s lust was beginning to burn in his veins when N’mor finally made it to Helyna’s weyr, and he strode in confidently, letting Rhezalth’s confidence flood through him. They were mates, and had won twice before. They would win again; Rhezalth was convinced and N’mor had no reason to doubt him – though he did have enough of his own mind left to promise himself he’d tease the dragon relentlessly if he lost. N’mor elbowed a bronzerider out of his way, and prowled closer to Helyna, coming to a ready stop close by – but far enough away not to be attacked if Iliyith got spicy.
On the ledge in the sun, Rhezalth was sprawled out and taking up a ridiculous amount of space. It wasn’t often that there was room for such, but while Z’rin had gone to visit friends, Varralath had gone with him. Or perhaps to socialise on his own for a while. Either way, he wasn’t in the weyr, which meant N’mor’s lump of a bronze was taking up all the room enjoying the late evening sunshine.
N’mor looked up and over at his dragon, also being in the dragon alcove, and raised a brow as Rhezalth seemed to startle awake, and shook his head as he lifted it, craning to peer out and down towards the bowl. “What is it?” N’mor asked, curious, but more focused on his work than whatever had caught his dragon’s eye.
“Oh, okay,” N’mor replied absently, before his dragon’s words really processed and he blinked rapidly, lifting his chin to stare at Rhezalth. “Oh.” He said again, then sighed heavily. “Off you go, then.” Rhezalth seemed slightly irritated – probably because he didn’t get a personal invitation or notification that the gold was ready to fly – and N’mor snorted to himself as he packed up, and wiped his oily hand on his thigh, leaving marks on the worn out pants.
“One of us needs to invest in a firelizard,” N’mor muttered to himself as he made his way through the weyr and out the door, closing it quietly behind himself. He had no idea where Z’rin was, but knew the bluerider would be cheering on Rhezalth and, N’mor guessed, himself. Not that he was thrilled by what Rhezalth winning would mean. Helyna was a nice enough woman, but N’mor much preferred her with her clothing on. And him in his, too!
Rhezalth’s lust was beginning to burn in his veins when N’mor finally made it to Helyna’s weyr, and he strode in confidently, letting Rhezalth’s confidence flood through him. They were mates, and had won twice before. They would win again; Rhezalth was convinced and N’mor had no reason to doubt him – though he did have enough of his own mind left to promise himself he’d tease the dragon relentlessly if he lost. N’mor elbowed a bronzerider out of his way, and prowled closer to Helyna, coming to a ready stop close by – but far enough away not to be attacked if Iliyith got spicy.
