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!
21.Jan.12, 07:21 PM
Larrikith shut up with a gargled squeak at Ronarth's command, the natural instincts of a lower-ranking dragon falling into place, despite her desire to rebel. B'jin, distraught though he was, offered enough back up to the bronze to assist with controlling the irate green. She usually would have simply ignored either of them; it was impossible for her to ignore them both. Snarling, irate, and wanting very much to fly away, Larrikith was further bound by her bonded, who had just burst into tears.
B'jin wasn't sobbing, he wouldn't allow himself to fall apart that much (that was for at home, hidden from even Larrikith's prying eyes, if not her mind) but the tears were flooding down his face in a constant river of mildly salty water, and his breath shuddered as he peered up at D'ren with distress. B'jin didn't do disappointment - he always, always did right. He may not be ackonwledged for it, or praised for it, but the man could count on one hand the amount of times he had sorely disappointed someone, and that all of those times were Nemall, in the privacy of their own hut... Dear Faranth, what would D'ren say if he knew B'jin had tried to be a part of the party to return home? Or that he had fully supported (and wanted to participate!) in the torching of Tsuen's hut?! The man's face lost even more colour, and he chocked on a breath.
"I'm s-s-sorry," B'jin chocked, the tears coming faster as he shrunk back in his chair, shoulders up around his ears and head tucked close to his chest, as if that would hide the shame-faced expression and the fact that he was crying like a weyrbrat found out of bounds.
"Y-y-yes," B'jin stammered, his hitching breath causing the word to break up. He sniffed lightly, and carefully wiped his face on his forearm; it didn't do much good, as the flooding of tears continued. "H-he," B'jin paused, and took in a deep breath, eyes closed as he held it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose. Opening his eyes, the greenrider continued. "He broke upon arrival. He probably wouldn't have had any major issues for another handful of Turns." His lips pursed, and his eyes dropped to the table, thoughtful and worried. B'jin didn't like the stealing manner in which Candidates were brought to the Isle, and had forfeited more than a few likely candidates in leu of coming home empty handed rather than disrupt them from their lives. If D'ren knew half of what he got up to... B'jin shuddered visibly and gave a dainty sniff.
"Twenty-three," B'jin spoke softly, answering the Weyrleader's questions without looking at him, fearful D'ren would see all the hidden secretes in his eyes if he did. Wiping his face once more on his sleeve, and glad to note the tapering off of his tears (the shame! To cry before the Weyrleader!) B'jin continued, "I know."
D'ren's thoughtful expression caused B'jin's eyes to narrow distrustfully, and he withdrew into himself almost visibly, walls shooting up as he prepared for some kind of trick, as if D'ren usually went around pulling carpets out from under his feet. He frowned at D'ren's question, and tilted his head slightly, pondering.
Severe depression, Larrikith replied, her voice low and grouchy still, but that wasn't unusual for the green in question. He will require watching. He won't run, she explained, pausing for a moment as she thought carefully about what she was going to say. Normally, Larrikith simply spoke, but the young man they had brought to the Isle required careful consideration. He may try to suicide... Then she dismissed the matter, snorting and lifting her head in dismissal and flicked her wings. Silly child would have wound up dead anyway.
B'jin wasn't sobbing, he wouldn't allow himself to fall apart that much (that was for at home, hidden from even Larrikith's prying eyes, if not her mind) but the tears were flooding down his face in a constant river of mildly salty water, and his breath shuddered as he peered up at D'ren with distress. B'jin didn't do disappointment - he always, always did right. He may not be ackonwledged for it, or praised for it, but the man could count on one hand the amount of times he had sorely disappointed someone, and that all of those times were Nemall, in the privacy of their own hut... Dear Faranth, what would D'ren say if he knew B'jin had tried to be a part of the party to return home? Or that he had fully supported (and wanted to participate!) in the torching of Tsuen's hut?! The man's face lost even more colour, and he chocked on a breath.
"I'm s-s-sorry," B'jin chocked, the tears coming faster as he shrunk back in his chair, shoulders up around his ears and head tucked close to his chest, as if that would hide the shame-faced expression and the fact that he was crying like a weyrbrat found out of bounds.
"Y-y-yes," B'jin stammered, his hitching breath causing the word to break up. He sniffed lightly, and carefully wiped his face on his forearm; it didn't do much good, as the flooding of tears continued. "H-he," B'jin paused, and took in a deep breath, eyes closed as he held it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose. Opening his eyes, the greenrider continued. "He broke upon arrival. He probably wouldn't have had any major issues for another handful of Turns." His lips pursed, and his eyes dropped to the table, thoughtful and worried. B'jin didn't like the stealing manner in which Candidates were brought to the Isle, and had forfeited more than a few likely candidates in leu of coming home empty handed rather than disrupt them from their lives. If D'ren knew half of what he got up to... B'jin shuddered visibly and gave a dainty sniff.
"Twenty-three," B'jin spoke softly, answering the Weyrleader's questions without looking at him, fearful D'ren would see all the hidden secretes in his eyes if he did. Wiping his face once more on his sleeve, and glad to note the tapering off of his tears (the shame! To cry before the Weyrleader!) B'jin continued, "I know."
D'ren's thoughtful expression caused B'jin's eyes to narrow distrustfully, and he withdrew into himself almost visibly, walls shooting up as he prepared for some kind of trick, as if D'ren usually went around pulling carpets out from under his feet. He frowned at D'ren's question, and tilted his head slightly, pondering.
Severe depression, Larrikith replied, her voice low and grouchy still, but that wasn't unusual for the green in question. He will require watching. He won't run, she explained, pausing for a moment as she thought carefully about what she was going to say. Normally, Larrikith simply spoke, but the young man they had brought to the Isle required careful consideration. He may try to suicide... Then she dismissed the matter, snorting and lifting her head in dismissal and flicked her wings. Silly child would have wound up dead anyway.
