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!
05.Sep.12, 04:43 PM
Talian saw the swirl of fear and confusion move through her. He was immediately reminded of some of the disturbed cases he saw back at healer hall, but he didn't get a good enough look to immediately jump to conclusions. Signs of lingering trauma were all too common at Katila, with almost everyone showing some sort of scarring from the turns, no matter how they'd come to be there. The riders had their plague, and the northerners had Katila itself.
He let it go, though he did put the information away for future use. He'd noticed how nervous she was and how fleeting her appearances could be. He'd probably need to speak to her gently, and he somehow doubted she would tolerate being touched. He'd heard stories of her extreme revulsion to physical contact. Poor thing. Having grown up with a borderline abusive father and witnessed the rage he'd thrown at Talian's sisters, he could only imagine what might have caused it.
"I'd be happy to," he said, watching as she fumbled around. He bit his lip, then moved to a nearby desk where he quickly located some parchment. He kept most of the building organized, whether his colleagues (if they could be called that; he hated them all and considered most of them useless) wanted him to or not. Finding a quill and an ink pot took a little bit more thought, but eventually he was able to dig them out of the back of another drawer.
"Here you are, miss," he said, setting them down on the table and stepping away.
He let it go, though he did put the information away for future use. He'd noticed how nervous she was and how fleeting her appearances could be. He'd probably need to speak to her gently, and he somehow doubted she would tolerate being touched. He'd heard stories of her extreme revulsion to physical contact. Poor thing. Having grown up with a borderline abusive father and witnessed the rage he'd thrown at Talian's sisters, he could only imagine what might have caused it.
"I'd be happy to," he said, watching as she fumbled around. He bit his lip, then moved to a nearby desk where he quickly located some parchment. He kept most of the building organized, whether his colleagues (if they could be called that; he hated them all and considered most of them useless) wanted him to or not. Finding a quill and an ink pot took a little bit more thought, but eventually he was able to dig them out of the back of another drawer.
"Here you are, miss," he said, setting them down on the table and stepping away.
