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!
01.Dec.13, 11:32 AM
B’jin had spent the whole event happily flittering around his candidates, answering any questions that were asked of him with a cheerful grin and slightly over exuberant gestures. Those that Touched many of the eggs were noted by the happy greenrider, and while those that sought to only pay attention to one or two were given a pout at, they were given permission to leave without a fuss when they asked it of the man.
Not that, by that point in time, he was paying over much attention to the candidates. About half an hour into the class, a rosy flush had climbed up to colour B’jin’s cheeks and his eyes had gone from bright and happy to more than a little glassy. He knew hatching sands were supposed to be hot, and it really was a good thing they were hot, but wasn’t it just a bit warm? Maybe a bit? Yes?
The greenrider didn’t hear the curious question from a candidate – at all – as fingers combed back through his hair, brushing damp strands back from his face and he stared blankly at nothing past the young man’s shoulder. The hesitant ‘sir?’ was greeted with that blank look turning upon the boy, who took a quick step backwards at the raw and powerful lust that was suddenly the only emotion B’jin was displaying.
His left hand was picking at the ties of his shirt; B’jin was oblivious to the world, and even his own actions, as Larrikith gave a screech of lust and launched herself into the sky on the other side of the Weyr. B’jin staggered a step, and finally succeeded in loosening the ties enough that his shirt was in the process of being removed when Indamor gave him a solid shove toward the edge of the Sands.
“Dad!” Another firm shove was given to the brainless greenrider. “Not here!” That was all Indamor needed; his dad pulling his pants down on the Hatching Sands. “Go to the Weyrling Barracks! Go!” Another shove, and Indamor thought – for a moment – that his father had gotten the message… only to take note of the coy expression and the way the man’s attention was focused on R’nd before B’jin gave a wicked giggle that was echoed by Larrikith’s croon up in the sky, and he bolted past R’nd like a naughty toddler.
Indamor’s head dropped so his chin rested against his chest. Why him?
B’jin gave a wicked giggle as he pelted across the slippery Weyr grounds, the short distance from Sands to Barracks both an instant and an eternity. He slipped and fell, once, landing heavily on his arse and sliding for several feet before he managed to scramble to his feet once more, now covered in mud, and ran full tilt into the Weyrling Barracks doorway. Muddied hands fought with the handle before he nearly fell inside the building. He kicked the door shut – sniggering again – and took off down the hall, forgetting his muddy footprints would make his game of hide and seek an easy one to win.
In the sky, Larrikith mimicked B’jin’s game of catch and chase as she ducked in and out of the stormy grey clouds, crooning and chittering her amusement.
Not that, by that point in time, he was paying over much attention to the candidates. About half an hour into the class, a rosy flush had climbed up to colour B’jin’s cheeks and his eyes had gone from bright and happy to more than a little glassy. He knew hatching sands were supposed to be hot, and it really was a good thing they were hot, but wasn’t it just a bit warm? Maybe a bit? Yes?
The greenrider didn’t hear the curious question from a candidate – at all – as fingers combed back through his hair, brushing damp strands back from his face and he stared blankly at nothing past the young man’s shoulder. The hesitant ‘sir?’ was greeted with that blank look turning upon the boy, who took a quick step backwards at the raw and powerful lust that was suddenly the only emotion B’jin was displaying.
His left hand was picking at the ties of his shirt; B’jin was oblivious to the world, and even his own actions, as Larrikith gave a screech of lust and launched herself into the sky on the other side of the Weyr. B’jin staggered a step, and finally succeeded in loosening the ties enough that his shirt was in the process of being removed when Indamor gave him a solid shove toward the edge of the Sands.
“Dad!” Another firm shove was given to the brainless greenrider. “Not here!” That was all Indamor needed; his dad pulling his pants down on the Hatching Sands. “Go to the Weyrling Barracks! Go!” Another shove, and Indamor thought – for a moment – that his father had gotten the message… only to take note of the coy expression and the way the man’s attention was focused on R’nd before B’jin gave a wicked giggle that was echoed by Larrikith’s croon up in the sky, and he bolted past R’nd like a naughty toddler.
Indamor’s head dropped so his chin rested against his chest. Why him?
B’jin gave a wicked giggle as he pelted across the slippery Weyr grounds, the short distance from Sands to Barracks both an instant and an eternity. He slipped and fell, once, landing heavily on his arse and sliding for several feet before he managed to scramble to his feet once more, now covered in mud, and ran full tilt into the Weyrling Barracks doorway. Muddied hands fought with the handle before he nearly fell inside the building. He kicked the door shut – sniggering again – and took off down the hall, forgetting his muddy footprints would make his game of hide and seek an easy one to win.
In the sky, Larrikith mimicked B’jin’s game of catch and chase as she ducked in and out of the stormy grey clouds, crooning and chittering her amusement.
