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!
17.Aug.12, 07:28 PM
Jada loomed over the boy, and it was really quite strange. Defiant, hurt brown eyes glared up at her, and she could barely hear the scornful words he spat to her. "I don't want to see you squirm." Not by any means. "I just wanted you to know I am sorry for what they had to do." If she could she would fly him North herself, along with every other person who had been Stolen, and reopen the Weyrs the way they used to be. Where people came to be dragonriders because they wanted to, not because they had no other choice. So that the dragonriders she knew from stories weren't the ones she saw on a daily basis, working hard just to survive. Where the Candidates didn't loathe the people they would be spending turns with, their lives with. So many of the Northerners had made their peace, but the resentment in the rest poisoned the air. She wanted to say something else, but the eyes in front of her were already lost to something else, some other thought or silent mantra. And she would never be able to tell him, or any other Northerners, of the thoughts that had been lurking. And yet, either way...
Someone would accuse her. Hate her. Jada was caught in the place that D'ren had warned her of, between the rock and the hard place, where someone would disdain her no matter what she tried to say or do. People were angry, and hurt, and best intentions mattered little when heart were lonely and aching. It was a cold place, here, and she could choose no sides. She could speak out like Lymsleia had, but to what purpose? That would make her loved by some, then, and hated by others. And Jada loved to be loved, more than anything in the world except Krypth herself.
When she had been Stolen, she had been angry. She still was. She had forgiven B'jin his crime, but not forgotten. She would never forget the time she had spent on that island, or how close she had been to home. But as a Candidate, she'd had no options. She could rage, and hate, or she could be a grown woman, mature. She could surrender gracefully, and bide her time. She could wait, and she could enjoy what freedom Katila offered.
In her surrender, Jada had found a home. She loved these people, all of them. Every broken heart she couldn't help was a personal affront. The Katilans were a good lot, even Indivara of the sharp fingers. They had hopes and dreams in the North that they had been uprooted from, same as those they had taken. They had paid their price in blood and sweat, hundreds of deaths, and long, lonely years. Their children didn't know the North. They were the lucky ones. Katilan born and Katilan bred, they had never known the soft luxuries of the Hold and Hall, and there was nothing for them to miss.
Yet the woman was still a Northerner, who suffered through thoughts of testing Nirinath's command on Krypth. She had spent weeks imagining what Fort Weyr had looked like from the location she had been snatched, trying to get it perfect in her mind for that moment when she and Krypth would be in the air, learning to go Between. The hidden fantasy she hadn't dared to share with the Gold. She would test the Queen's will, go North, and choose a Weyr. In her mind's eye, as a Senior Queen of her own home, Krypth would call suitors to her, as her mother had. She would... Do what? In the North, lands were not so fertile. Holds would no longer tithe. And Jada was a Harper, not a real Weyrwoman. She knew nothing about leadership. So she would bide her time, and see what was brought to her. Krypth would mature, and Jada would stay here, safe and selfish, not rocking the boat until the time came that she could actually have a say.
N'gelt stepped forward at last, and she jerked from her reverie, stepping back to stand near the dark-skinned healer again. Lymsleia... was a good girl. Misguided, and a little stupid opening her mouth again, but good. Jada winced at the decree of ten lashes to Sanderon, and clenched her fists. Lashings were barbaric, but necessary. How else could peace be kept? Fines? Katila had no money. Lock the offender up? In what building? And what chore would go undone? There were no drudges in Katila! A scolding? Scolding hadn't worked so far!
She should have known better than to think Lymsleia would keep her mouth shut. Really, Jada. "I think the leadership is quite aware of this particular issue, Lymsleia! And your attempt to bring people together will do it- bring them into thinking you a fool. 'Us versus them' is only made more obvious when you speak against treating the Northern born the same as the Northern survivors. How would you keep peace then?" the Weyrling asked, and Lymsleia answered her question.
"I challenge you, N'gelt, to a knife fight."
Jada felt her heart stop, her jaw drop, and felt a wave of fury run through her veins. She reached out for the girl, grabbing blindly at her wrist, feeling her fingers curl like claws. She may have struck out at the woman, if she got her grip on her wrist; Jada's anger was so blind, she couldn't identify her own action. She did, however, hear her voice raised in anger, sheer fury and frustration in her tone. Not a scream, but those nearby would be able to hear her words. Much less clearly that the Healer's theatrics, to be sure. "Replace violence with violence? A lashing to be replaced by a killing? You are acting the numbskull, Lymsleia, a flitter-brained deadglow!" Jada's golden eyes sought someone with real authority. As a Weyrling, Jada had none but what was granted to her by the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. She knew Tsuen was present- surely the woman would step in now, and say something! "You will shut your mouth, Healer. If your concern is so great, stop torturing this boy by turning what could have been quick into a public spectacle!"
A deep breath, and just in case the Healer decided she wanted to sit in the sunlight some more? "And if you pull out a knife to try and back up that little joke, or open your mouth again in one of your great speeches, I will drag you away by your ear for Krypth to sit on you while she stares at those little monsters; and don't think I don't want the excuse to get away from this debacle!" Jada would love the excuse to get away from here, since she didn't want to be here in the first place, and Lymsleia opening her big mouth one more time would be the end of it.
By her ear.
Someone would accuse her. Hate her. Jada was caught in the place that D'ren had warned her of, between the rock and the hard place, where someone would disdain her no matter what she tried to say or do. People were angry, and hurt, and best intentions mattered little when heart were lonely and aching. It was a cold place, here, and she could choose no sides. She could speak out like Lymsleia had, but to what purpose? That would make her loved by some, then, and hated by others. And Jada loved to be loved, more than anything in the world except Krypth herself.
When she had been Stolen, she had been angry. She still was. She had forgiven B'jin his crime, but not forgotten. She would never forget the time she had spent on that island, or how close she had been to home. But as a Candidate, she'd had no options. She could rage, and hate, or she could be a grown woman, mature. She could surrender gracefully, and bide her time. She could wait, and she could enjoy what freedom Katila offered.
In her surrender, Jada had found a home. She loved these people, all of them. Every broken heart she couldn't help was a personal affront. The Katilans were a good lot, even Indivara of the sharp fingers. They had hopes and dreams in the North that they had been uprooted from, same as those they had taken. They had paid their price in blood and sweat, hundreds of deaths, and long, lonely years. Their children didn't know the North. They were the lucky ones. Katilan born and Katilan bred, they had never known the soft luxuries of the Hold and Hall, and there was nothing for them to miss.
Yet the woman was still a Northerner, who suffered through thoughts of testing Nirinath's command on Krypth. She had spent weeks imagining what Fort Weyr had looked like from the location she had been snatched, trying to get it perfect in her mind for that moment when she and Krypth would be in the air, learning to go Between. The hidden fantasy she hadn't dared to share with the Gold. She would test the Queen's will, go North, and choose a Weyr. In her mind's eye, as a Senior Queen of her own home, Krypth would call suitors to her, as her mother had. She would... Do what? In the North, lands were not so fertile. Holds would no longer tithe. And Jada was a Harper, not a real Weyrwoman. She knew nothing about leadership. So she would bide her time, and see what was brought to her. Krypth would mature, and Jada would stay here, safe and selfish, not rocking the boat until the time came that she could actually have a say.
N'gelt stepped forward at last, and she jerked from her reverie, stepping back to stand near the dark-skinned healer again. Lymsleia... was a good girl. Misguided, and a little stupid opening her mouth again, but good. Jada winced at the decree of ten lashes to Sanderon, and clenched her fists. Lashings were barbaric, but necessary. How else could peace be kept? Fines? Katila had no money. Lock the offender up? In what building? And what chore would go undone? There were no drudges in Katila! A scolding? Scolding hadn't worked so far!
She should have known better than to think Lymsleia would keep her mouth shut. Really, Jada. "I think the leadership is quite aware of this particular issue, Lymsleia! And your attempt to bring people together will do it- bring them into thinking you a fool. 'Us versus them' is only made more obvious when you speak against treating the Northern born the same as the Northern survivors. How would you keep peace then?" the Weyrling asked, and Lymsleia answered her question.
"I challenge you, N'gelt, to a knife fight."
Jada felt her heart stop, her jaw drop, and felt a wave of fury run through her veins. She reached out for the girl, grabbing blindly at her wrist, feeling her fingers curl like claws. She may have struck out at the woman, if she got her grip on her wrist; Jada's anger was so blind, she couldn't identify her own action. She did, however, hear her voice raised in anger, sheer fury and frustration in her tone. Not a scream, but those nearby would be able to hear her words. Much less clearly that the Healer's theatrics, to be sure. "Replace violence with violence? A lashing to be replaced by a killing? You are acting the numbskull, Lymsleia, a flitter-brained deadglow!" Jada's golden eyes sought someone with real authority. As a Weyrling, Jada had none but what was granted to her by the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. She knew Tsuen was present- surely the woman would step in now, and say something! "You will shut your mouth, Healer. If your concern is so great, stop torturing this boy by turning what could have been quick into a public spectacle!"
A deep breath, and just in case the Healer decided she wanted to sit in the sunlight some more? "And if you pull out a knife to try and back up that little joke, or open your mouth again in one of your great speeches, I will drag you away by your ear for Krypth to sit on you while she stares at those little monsters; and don't think I don't want the excuse to get away from this debacle!" Jada would love the excuse to get away from here, since she didn't want to be here in the first place, and Lymsleia opening her big mouth one more time would be the end of it.
By her ear.
