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, 01:49 PM
When a few of Sanderon's blows actually landed, one would think he was very pleased, but he wasn't. He was not the sort to actually delight in the hurting of others...unlike some persons. He glared at N'gelt when the snap of the whip barely missed his leg. After his wrists were bound he kicked out again and connected with one of the brown rider's knees. Sanderon tried again but the three that had brought him up to the stage and secured him to the posts backed off out of his reach and melted into the crowd.
Standing there with feet set wide for stability he waited for the pain to begin. But it did not come right away. Out of the murmuring of the growing crowd around him came a female's voice (Lymsleia). What she had to say whether it be true or not was not helping matters. In fact, she was only making things worse for him and maybe for herself as well. Could she not see that? Turning his head, he sought out her form and frowned. His eyes flashed a quick plea for her to shut up. He could fight his own battles.
When Jada spoke up in defense of the Southern scum, Sanderon couldn't help but glare. He stopped listening to her and looked along the crowd. One pair of eyes caught his attention as they were looking steadily back into his own.(Sasha) Wondering what to make of her, he noticed her very slight nod to him. What was that suppose to mean? Was she agreeing with his current thoughts that the other girl's speech was more damaging then helpful and his pain might now be worse because of it? Or was she lending him a small hint of her support for him? That was a surprising thought and one that was not completely unwelcome. He could use all the support he could get at this point.
Turning his gaze away from the crowds and onto Jada when she placed herself in front of him, he glared at her and mumbled under his breath for her ears only, "Come to see me squirm?" There was already pain in his eyes and not just because of the ropes that burned his wrists. His pain now was mostly in his heart. If he got the five lashes he felt he would be dealt, life would be very unbearable for a while to come until his lashes healed. He would not be able to disappear again until he healed.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Sanderon had put his efforts of actually going home on hold for quite some time now. His latest 'escape' attempts had not been to get to his family but to avoid getting near the clutch of eggs that were hardening upon the sands. He had also been sneaking a portion of his meals out to a secret location in preparation for the time when getting home might become a real possibility. He also desired the rare moments of freedom sneaking off there brought to him. To keep his sanity, he needed that.
So far, it had not yet been discovered what he was really up to. One of his caught 'escape' attempts was when he was heading out with another scrap of food and a small break from the Southern Scum that had torn him away from his family and left them thinking he was dead. The dragon eggs were his real motivation for having headed away this last time though. If one of them were to sense him and then choose him for life, he would never see his parents and brothers again. If he could just hold out and avoid as many hatchings and lashings as he could, maybe...just maybe an opportunity to return home might present itself in time. Let others think what they will. He was and always would be loyal to his family. The real truth behind his 'escape attempts', he would never reveal...to anyone...ever.
Five lashes; That was all he would have to endure. He was sure of it. It would be horrible but he knew he would survive. When N'gelt spoke of his 'crime' and then the punishment of seven lashes, Sanderon ignored Jada in front of him, looked slowly down at his feet and closed his eyes with a clenched jaw.
The sound of N'gelt's footsteps coming closer made Sanderon lift his chin and regain his look of defiance. They would never break him! The rough texture of N'gelt's strong hand on his collar confused Sanderon for a moment before the fabric at his throat nearly choked him as his shirt was viciously torn from his back. With eyes widening with apprehension, Sanderon pushed his fear away as best he could, as the soft breeze caressed his bare skin.
Three more lashes were pronounced making the total count ten and this is when Sanderon's control slipped. He was afraid now and it was very hard to convince himself otherwise. He wanted to be strong. He had to be strong. But with ten lashes?! How could he?
With N'gelt's footsteps now coming to a stop behind him, Sanderon closed his eyes with resignation and braced himself for the first lash. He was hoping N'gelt would get them all done quickly.
With the first snap of the whip, a terrible groan tore forth from Sanderon's throat. He instinctively tugged strongly on his wrist restraints only to have the ropes there dig deeper. This was going to be a lot worse than he thought. Sure he had endured three lashes before but he did not remember them being this bad. His back muscles quivered terribly with the shock of it and the small trickles of first blood could be felt slowly running out of the slash that had torn his skin.
Nine more? He would never make it.
Standing there with feet set wide for stability he waited for the pain to begin. But it did not come right away. Out of the murmuring of the growing crowd around him came a female's voice (Lymsleia). What she had to say whether it be true or not was not helping matters. In fact, she was only making things worse for him and maybe for herself as well. Could she not see that? Turning his head, he sought out her form and frowned. His eyes flashed a quick plea for her to shut up. He could fight his own battles.
When Jada spoke up in defense of the Southern scum, Sanderon couldn't help but glare. He stopped listening to her and looked along the crowd. One pair of eyes caught his attention as they were looking steadily back into his own.(Sasha) Wondering what to make of her, he noticed her very slight nod to him. What was that suppose to mean? Was she agreeing with his current thoughts that the other girl's speech was more damaging then helpful and his pain might now be worse because of it? Or was she lending him a small hint of her support for him? That was a surprising thought and one that was not completely unwelcome. He could use all the support he could get at this point.
Turning his gaze away from the crowds and onto Jada when she placed herself in front of him, he glared at her and mumbled under his breath for her ears only, "Come to see me squirm?" There was already pain in his eyes and not just because of the ropes that burned his wrists. His pain now was mostly in his heart. If he got the five lashes he felt he would be dealt, life would be very unbearable for a while to come until his lashes healed. He would not be able to disappear again until he healed.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Sanderon had put his efforts of actually going home on hold for quite some time now. His latest 'escape' attempts had not been to get to his family but to avoid getting near the clutch of eggs that were hardening upon the sands. He had also been sneaking a portion of his meals out to a secret location in preparation for the time when getting home might become a real possibility. He also desired the rare moments of freedom sneaking off there brought to him. To keep his sanity, he needed that.
So far, it had not yet been discovered what he was really up to. One of his caught 'escape' attempts was when he was heading out with another scrap of food and a small break from the Southern Scum that had torn him away from his family and left them thinking he was dead. The dragon eggs were his real motivation for having headed away this last time though. If one of them were to sense him and then choose him for life, he would never see his parents and brothers again. If he could just hold out and avoid as many hatchings and lashings as he could, maybe...just maybe an opportunity to return home might present itself in time. Let others think what they will. He was and always would be loyal to his family. The real truth behind his 'escape attempts', he would never reveal...to anyone...ever.
Five lashes; That was all he would have to endure. He was sure of it. It would be horrible but he knew he would survive. When N'gelt spoke of his 'crime' and then the punishment of seven lashes, Sanderon ignored Jada in front of him, looked slowly down at his feet and closed his eyes with a clenched jaw.
The sound of N'gelt's footsteps coming closer made Sanderon lift his chin and regain his look of defiance. They would never break him! The rough texture of N'gelt's strong hand on his collar confused Sanderon for a moment before the fabric at his throat nearly choked him as his shirt was viciously torn from his back. With eyes widening with apprehension, Sanderon pushed his fear away as best he could, as the soft breeze caressed his bare skin.
Three more lashes were pronounced making the total count ten and this is when Sanderon's control slipped. He was afraid now and it was very hard to convince himself otherwise. He wanted to be strong. He had to be strong. But with ten lashes?! How could he?
With N'gelt's footsteps now coming to a stop behind him, Sanderon closed his eyes with resignation and braced himself for the first lash. He was hoping N'gelt would get them all done quickly.
With the first snap of the whip, a terrible groan tore forth from Sanderon's throat. He instinctively tugged strongly on his wrist restraints only to have the ropes there dig deeper. This was going to be a lot worse than he thought. Sure he had endured three lashes before but he did not remember them being this bad. His back muscles quivered terribly with the shock of it and the small trickles of first blood could be felt slowly running out of the slash that had torn his skin.
Nine more? He would never make it.
