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!
02.Apr.12, 07:24 PM
D'ren paused and chewed on the end of his quill for a moment, gaze temporarily glazing over as he tossed B'jin's words around in his head. "I suppose that's a common problem for the kids," he replied. "Feeling lost, I mean." He refused to use the terms 'northerners' or 'stolens'. The former implied otherness, when in fact the vast majority of Katilans were refugees from the north. The latter was unpleasant and cruel. To D'ren, they were just kids.
The attitude many of the young weyrbrats had actually rather annoyed the bronzerider. 'Katilan born' was born in exile and was nothing to hold over someone whose life had been taken from them. He'd already decided that he would knock the daylights out of his child if he ever caught him or her using such terms!
"I feel bad for them," he finally said, sighing a bit as he looked back to his work. In truth, Talian's attempted suicide had really upset the Weyrleader. The first dead runaways a couple turns before had upset him, too. D'ren wasn't entirely adaptable himself and could imagine feeling just as bad if he were the kidnapped one. "It's downright disgusting, B'jin...that some of them hate it here so much that they'd rather toss themselves to felines or kill themselves in their own rooms. It makes me want to pull my hair out," he grunted under his breath, not bothering to look B'jin in the eye.
An unfamiliar observer might have thought D'ren's annoyance was aimed towards the northerners, but in reality it was very much aimed at himself. He felt responsible for it. It was Tsuen's original idea, but he'd gone along with it and sent his riders to carry out the task. He wouldn't want the kids to blame Tsuen anyhow. The treatment most of them received from the local population didn't help, either. They should be welcomed and made to feel a part of the community, not scolded and advised to 'get over it'. That was the best way to assure that they never would.
Obviously.
The riders loved to throw that in the stolens' faces when they complained about their situation. 'We suffered before you did. More than you did', they would say. To D'ren, that was hypocritical and inexcusable. He was long over any self-pity regarding the plague. He'd lost family and friends in it, too. Everyone had, it was true. The riders were wronged by a dispassionate act of nature. These children were wronged by the conscious choice of thinking human beings.
Besides...the last thing he wanted was these children to feel alienated. After all, they were the next generation of dragonriders. D'ren hated it, but he felt like Katila was on an inevitable path to self-destruction. He had some ideas for how to correct it, or at least soften the blow...but he couldn't imagine it ending well for his generation. By the time the youngsters grew up and made it north, the plague survivors would be lucky if they weren't banished, or at the very least politically powerless.
Maybe that would be for the best. That way, the dragonriders who went north to face thread would be welcomed back as the generation of lost children on a heroic journey home....not the monsters who snatched those children to begin with. Maybe then the northerners would trust and support them.
D'ren? He's talking to you
D'ren snapped back to reality, realizing suddenly that he'd been staring wide-eyed at his parchment for some time, the most troubled expression etched on his aging face. He felt his shirt clinging to him with nervous sweat. "Faranth, I'm sorry about that B'jin," he murmured, sincerely embarrassed to have lapsed into what practically amounted to a waking nightmare.
He was slightly relieved to see that B'jin had busied himself looking through the drawings. "Thank you," D'ren replied, his tone mellow as he cooled down him his fretting. He glanced to the window, where Ronarth was looking inside expectantly.
I can go and try to cheer up the healer boy Ronarth suggested to both riders. D'ren sensed the sincerity and half-smiled, trying to at least look impressed for his dragon. "That won't be necessary," he said with a sigh. Ronarth cocked his head in curiosity and snorted, his hot breath misting up the window, but otherwise remained quiet. Just why that was a bad idea wasn't coming to him, but he decided not to pester his bonded with an answer for now.
D'ren just smiled, this time a bit more lively, and shook his head. "I had hoped Impressing a dragon would fix your boy," he commented, trying to get back to the original subject before he deviated any more. "But I don't think I can allow him to stand now, even if he does seem better by the time the next clutch arrives. He'll wind up like poor Wella did a couple turns back." Now that had been a tragedy. Outside, Ronarth grunted sadly at the memory of it. I still don't understand why they left...
Shhh, it's okay, boy
"If Larrikith thinks he'd Impress, I'm sure he eventually would. But I'm not going to have him anywhere near those eggs. Let's hope you're right about a goal..maybe once he feels less condemned, he'll start to function normally. Either way, it's good to have a competent surgeon around." He intended to let the matter rest at that. He knew B'jin was fond of the kid and he sincerely hoped B'jin didn't take the edict badly. It didn't look like it at least, not after B'jin's negative predictions about Talian's capacity to Impress.
His back straightened a bit when B'jin mentioned a request. This ought to be good. His brows furrowed in anxiety as B'jin declared his desire - no, his need to go north. D'ren wasn't happy, but he didn't jump to conclusions...perhaps out of fondness for B'jin and a feeling of obligation, or perhaps just because he was too tired to argue. "You need to?" he inquired patiently with skeptically. "Why?"
The attitude many of the young weyrbrats had actually rather annoyed the bronzerider. 'Katilan born' was born in exile and was nothing to hold over someone whose life had been taken from them. He'd already decided that he would knock the daylights out of his child if he ever caught him or her using such terms!
"I feel bad for them," he finally said, sighing a bit as he looked back to his work. In truth, Talian's attempted suicide had really upset the Weyrleader. The first dead runaways a couple turns before had upset him, too. D'ren wasn't entirely adaptable himself and could imagine feeling just as bad if he were the kidnapped one. "It's downright disgusting, B'jin...that some of them hate it here so much that they'd rather toss themselves to felines or kill themselves in their own rooms. It makes me want to pull my hair out," he grunted under his breath, not bothering to look B'jin in the eye.
An unfamiliar observer might have thought D'ren's annoyance was aimed towards the northerners, but in reality it was very much aimed at himself. He felt responsible for it. It was Tsuen's original idea, but he'd gone along with it and sent his riders to carry out the task. He wouldn't want the kids to blame Tsuen anyhow. The treatment most of them received from the local population didn't help, either. They should be welcomed and made to feel a part of the community, not scolded and advised to 'get over it'. That was the best way to assure that they never would.
Obviously.
The riders loved to throw that in the stolens' faces when they complained about their situation. 'We suffered before you did. More than you did', they would say. To D'ren, that was hypocritical and inexcusable. He was long over any self-pity regarding the plague. He'd lost family and friends in it, too. Everyone had, it was true. The riders were wronged by a dispassionate act of nature. These children were wronged by the conscious choice of thinking human beings.
Besides...the last thing he wanted was these children to feel alienated. After all, they were the next generation of dragonriders. D'ren hated it, but he felt like Katila was on an inevitable path to self-destruction. He had some ideas for how to correct it, or at least soften the blow...but he couldn't imagine it ending well for his generation. By the time the youngsters grew up and made it north, the plague survivors would be lucky if they weren't banished, or at the very least politically powerless.
Maybe that would be for the best. That way, the dragonriders who went north to face thread would be welcomed back as the generation of lost children on a heroic journey home....not the monsters who snatched those children to begin with. Maybe then the northerners would trust and support them.
D'ren? He's talking to you
D'ren snapped back to reality, realizing suddenly that he'd been staring wide-eyed at his parchment for some time, the most troubled expression etched on his aging face. He felt his shirt clinging to him with nervous sweat. "Faranth, I'm sorry about that B'jin," he murmured, sincerely embarrassed to have lapsed into what practically amounted to a waking nightmare.
He was slightly relieved to see that B'jin had busied himself looking through the drawings. "Thank you," D'ren replied, his tone mellow as he cooled down him his fretting. He glanced to the window, where Ronarth was looking inside expectantly.
I can go and try to cheer up the healer boy Ronarth suggested to both riders. D'ren sensed the sincerity and half-smiled, trying to at least look impressed for his dragon. "That won't be necessary," he said with a sigh. Ronarth cocked his head in curiosity and snorted, his hot breath misting up the window, but otherwise remained quiet. Just why that was a bad idea wasn't coming to him, but he decided not to pester his bonded with an answer for now.
D'ren just smiled, this time a bit more lively, and shook his head. "I had hoped Impressing a dragon would fix your boy," he commented, trying to get back to the original subject before he deviated any more. "But I don't think I can allow him to stand now, even if he does seem better by the time the next clutch arrives. He'll wind up like poor Wella did a couple turns back." Now that had been a tragedy. Outside, Ronarth grunted sadly at the memory of it. I still don't understand why they left...
Shhh, it's okay, boy
"If Larrikith thinks he'd Impress, I'm sure he eventually would. But I'm not going to have him anywhere near those eggs. Let's hope you're right about a goal..maybe once he feels less condemned, he'll start to function normally. Either way, it's good to have a competent surgeon around." He intended to let the matter rest at that. He knew B'jin was fond of the kid and he sincerely hoped B'jin didn't take the edict badly. It didn't look like it at least, not after B'jin's negative predictions about Talian's capacity to Impress.
His back straightened a bit when B'jin mentioned a request. This ought to be good. His brows furrowed in anxiety as B'jin declared his desire - no, his need to go north. D'ren wasn't happy, but he didn't jump to conclusions...perhaps out of fondness for B'jin and a feeling of obligation, or perhaps just because he was too tired to argue. "You need to?" he inquired patiently with skeptically. "Why?"
