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!
16.Aug.12, 03:08 PM
Krypth had been very glad for her short memory when Indivara had marched onto the Sands. Especially once she'd advised the girl that Jada wasn't there, and the girl had gone red-faced and angry. Someone was getting in troooouble and Jada probably needed a good talking to in order to keep her mind off of one of the Northerners getting lashed. Silly, silly wherries should know by now not to run away. She'd obligingly told the young girl everything that she knew about her Rider's location, and nudged an egg back into a new position as Indivara stormed away. Briefly she debated warning Jada that a typhoon was coming- and then dismissed the thought lightly.
Jada would learn to manage her time and keep herself on track one way another. This was a lesson best learned before she was Weyrwoman.
"So nice of me to- Indi!" Jada choked, bending at the waist to try and put her hands protectively over her ribs (though far too late to defend from the poke, shards Indi had hard fingers!), and then colored, wincing. "Oops?" her voice was weak, lame, and she looked down into the scarred face with no small amount of apprehension. Everyone present could vouch for the fact Indi could take the goldrider with little to absolutely no personal effort... And Indi was positively hopping.
"What's wrong with what I am wearing?" At this, at last, Jada grew belligerent, staring down at her serviceable and fairly clean clothing. "What else would I wear to see someone get beaten? A gather dress? I have things to do both before and after events like this, and I am hardly going to dress up for this. I brushed all the sand off. And I brushed my hair. I look perfectly serviceable." And Sharding good, actually, thank you. The color was fabulous on her. Kind of. Well, she would pretend it was. Most importantly, it was clothes! "And what are you wearing?" she shot back in a hiss. "Pot, Kettle."
A raised voice dragged her attention away from Indivara though, and Jada tensed as she saw the owner of the voice. Dung Biscuits! Jada swore softly, clenching her fists. The woman was right, in so many ways, but why would the girl have to do it so publicly! She just couldn't keep her mouth shut and bide her time, wait patiently. No, Lymsleia had to make a public spectacle of herself. And she was going to get herself in trouble. She liked the dark-skinned girl a bit; she seemed to know her own mind, but this... Ack!
"You are right, Lymsleia, we all still have wounded hearts. Including the Katilan founders themselves." She heard herself snap back, and moved closer to the dark-skinned woman, lowering her voice. "The decisions that were made in the past were made in order to protect Pern, and to protect the dragons. they fought for turns to keep them safe, and now they need to keep them safe a little longer, until the numbers swell. And they will, and for that they stole us. Uprooted us. And have been as kind as they are able, to protect the most precious resource on Pern. How many have tried to escape that they have shown patience for our 'wounded hearts'? Because they themselves ache for home. But Lymsleia, trying to escape is a death sentence."
A death sentence.
How far South were they now? "Even if the runaways took the water, the lake, the river, hunted their way to the coast, got in a boat loaded with fresh water, do you honestly think they would make it back to the North? As a corpse, maybe! Storms. Waves. Water predators. If they wrecked, or their supplies were knocked overboard? They would starve. Drown. And if they landed on the Northern Coast, where? What if they landed to the South? Where? What beasts would be around to find them when they washed on shore? Weakened, how would the runaway defend themselves? The dragons are what keep us safe here."
She raised her voice, pain wracking every note. "An example was coming, Lym, and you knew it the same as I did, from the moment they started the lashings with one of their own. You cannot expect that any leader would punish their own people for being heartbroken and let us Northerners get away with belligerence and anarchy forever."
"You're not a Northerner!" The scream was from the crowd. "You're one of them now!" The voice was female, angry. And accurate. Was it true? She'd found a home, a purpose for remaining at Katila in her bonding to Krypth. It hurt, but hurt less and less every day... She had friends here. So many of the Northerners had chosen to dwell in their misfortune instead of making a life among the natives.
And it was going to bite the Weyrleaders in the rear. The pot was simmering, and the lid was shaking. This was a shaking, not a stirring, and it was going to make something boil over. Someone was going to get hurt from the waves this whipping produced, and the thought was terrifying.
Moving over to Sanderon, she stood in front of him, and tried to keep her face neutral. Shards, for a Harper she sure was pitiful at trying to hide her feelings. Written across her face was sorrow, pity, and resignation. "I'm sorry." She told him simply.
Jada would learn to manage her time and keep herself on track one way another. This was a lesson best learned before she was Weyrwoman.
"So nice of me to- Indi!" Jada choked, bending at the waist to try and put her hands protectively over her ribs (though far too late to defend from the poke, shards Indi had hard fingers!), and then colored, wincing. "Oops?" her voice was weak, lame, and she looked down into the scarred face with no small amount of apprehension. Everyone present could vouch for the fact Indi could take the goldrider with little to absolutely no personal effort... And Indi was positively hopping.
"What's wrong with what I am wearing?" At this, at last, Jada grew belligerent, staring down at her serviceable and fairly clean clothing. "What else would I wear to see someone get beaten? A gather dress? I have things to do both before and after events like this, and I am hardly going to dress up for this. I brushed all the sand off. And I brushed my hair. I look perfectly serviceable." And Sharding good, actually, thank you. The color was fabulous on her. Kind of. Well, she would pretend it was. Most importantly, it was clothes! "And what are you wearing?" she shot back in a hiss. "Pot, Kettle."
A raised voice dragged her attention away from Indivara though, and Jada tensed as she saw the owner of the voice. Dung Biscuits! Jada swore softly, clenching her fists. The woman was right, in so many ways, but why would the girl have to do it so publicly! She just couldn't keep her mouth shut and bide her time, wait patiently. No, Lymsleia had to make a public spectacle of herself. And she was going to get herself in trouble. She liked the dark-skinned girl a bit; she seemed to know her own mind, but this... Ack!
"You are right, Lymsleia, we all still have wounded hearts. Including the Katilan founders themselves." She heard herself snap back, and moved closer to the dark-skinned woman, lowering her voice. "The decisions that were made in the past were made in order to protect Pern, and to protect the dragons. they fought for turns to keep them safe, and now they need to keep them safe a little longer, until the numbers swell. And they will, and for that they stole us. Uprooted us. And have been as kind as they are able, to protect the most precious resource on Pern. How many have tried to escape that they have shown patience for our 'wounded hearts'? Because they themselves ache for home. But Lymsleia, trying to escape is a death sentence."
A death sentence.
How far South were they now? "Even if the runaways took the water, the lake, the river, hunted their way to the coast, got in a boat loaded with fresh water, do you honestly think they would make it back to the North? As a corpse, maybe! Storms. Waves. Water predators. If they wrecked, or their supplies were knocked overboard? They would starve. Drown. And if they landed on the Northern Coast, where? What if they landed to the South? Where? What beasts would be around to find them when they washed on shore? Weakened, how would the runaway defend themselves? The dragons are what keep us safe here."
She raised her voice, pain wracking every note. "An example was coming, Lym, and you knew it the same as I did, from the moment they started the lashings with one of their own. You cannot expect that any leader would punish their own people for being heartbroken and let us Northerners get away with belligerence and anarchy forever."
"You're not a Northerner!" The scream was from the crowd. "You're one of them now!" The voice was female, angry. And accurate. Was it true? She'd found a home, a purpose for remaining at Katila in her bonding to Krypth. It hurt, but hurt less and less every day... She had friends here. So many of the Northerners had chosen to dwell in their misfortune instead of making a life among the natives.
And it was going to bite the Weyrleaders in the rear. The pot was simmering, and the lid was shaking. This was a shaking, not a stirring, and it was going to make something boil over. Someone was going to get hurt from the waves this whipping produced, and the thought was terrifying.
Moving over to Sanderon, she stood in front of him, and tried to keep her face neutral. Shards, for a Harper she sure was pitiful at trying to hide her feelings. Written across her face was sorrow, pity, and resignation. "I'm sorry." She told him simply.
