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!
14.Jan.13, 09:02 PM
Quiet. Peace, quiet, silence – that was what R’nya desired. The continual hustle and bustle around the Weyr was driving the quiet, private man more than a little insane. People trotting past his hut at all times of the day and night; dragons throwing tantrums at random; people getting all up in everyone else’s business as they hunt for someone no one can decide on. Tall, short, male, female, dragonrider, non-rider-! R’nya huffed under his breath as Xyreith took to the skies, the pair gliding high and just above the clouds.
They might actually find something if anyone was asking questions worth considering, R’nya grumbled (not for the first time) to Xyreith. The bronze dragon gave a shrug, uninterested in repeating the same things he’d told his human so many times before – after all, if R’nya was that irked by the progression of the hunt for the Weyrleader’s poisoner, why wasn’t he stepping up and taking control of it? Xyreith knew his rider would never do that, not unless he was pushed by someone that outranked him, and no one was interested in doing that. He’d already taken the opportunity presented to ditch his rank of Wingleader.
Xyreith had opposed that vehemently. Not only was his rider stepping away from the rank and responsibilities that were rightfully his by the hide that Xyreith was so proud of, he was making himself look spectacularly guilty to those that took the opportunity to jump on him as part of the party that had poisoned D’ren. He’d been proud of R’nya’s response, however; his wallflower rider had laughed at the accusations before he melted happily back into the shadows of his chosen lifestyle.
Xyreith was, however, willing to admit that while his rider’s chosen style of life didn’t bring them either the glory or the respect they were entitled to, it did allow for far more such days as the one they were enjoying. R’nya was never one to sleep late, and had spent the morning going through his usual exercises, for despite stepping down from wingleading and their lack of wing practices at any rate; R’nya was someone that appreciated good fitness. Breakfast, and then basic chores and tasks that kept him busy, before the rider was suggesting a trip to the lake. Xyreith hadn’t had a thorough scrubbing and oiling for a few weeks, and R’nya was in the mood to coddle his dragon.
The bag of soapsand and oils were carried by Xyreith in his front claws, while R’nya sat strapped contentedly to his dragon, enjoying the gentle but definitely much cooler air of the above-cloud range, relishing the diminished temperature before his dragon began to descend, dropping through the clouds to glide in to the lake edge.
Tyrrisath. A pause, and then distinct amusement, He is being scolded. R’nya made no comment, though his expression altered slightly, a subtle indication of his curiosity. Land, but not too close. The lake was large; there was no need to be clustered together like eggs on the Sands.
Sir, Xyreith responded, the large beast settling down a few lengths away, the distance neither here nor there, in the opinion of both rider and dragon. R’nya saluted lazily to S’kef; acknowledging the other man’s presence without specifically inviting nor seeking out companionship. Xyreith dropped the bag of washing things and then crouched down; waiting anxiously as R’nya methodically removed the riding harness. When he was free, Xyreith trotted down the beach and into the fresh water, wings spread and nose dipping under the water as the dragon crooned happily to himself.
Watching the dragon with placid fondness, R’nya found a dry place to sit and began removing his boots.
They might actually find something if anyone was asking questions worth considering, R’nya grumbled (not for the first time) to Xyreith. The bronze dragon gave a shrug, uninterested in repeating the same things he’d told his human so many times before – after all, if R’nya was that irked by the progression of the hunt for the Weyrleader’s poisoner, why wasn’t he stepping up and taking control of it? Xyreith knew his rider would never do that, not unless he was pushed by someone that outranked him, and no one was interested in doing that. He’d already taken the opportunity presented to ditch his rank of Wingleader.
Xyreith had opposed that vehemently. Not only was his rider stepping away from the rank and responsibilities that were rightfully his by the hide that Xyreith was so proud of, he was making himself look spectacularly guilty to those that took the opportunity to jump on him as part of the party that had poisoned D’ren. He’d been proud of R’nya’s response, however; his wallflower rider had laughed at the accusations before he melted happily back into the shadows of his chosen lifestyle.
Xyreith was, however, willing to admit that while his rider’s chosen style of life didn’t bring them either the glory or the respect they were entitled to, it did allow for far more such days as the one they were enjoying. R’nya was never one to sleep late, and had spent the morning going through his usual exercises, for despite stepping down from wingleading and their lack of wing practices at any rate; R’nya was someone that appreciated good fitness. Breakfast, and then basic chores and tasks that kept him busy, before the rider was suggesting a trip to the lake. Xyreith hadn’t had a thorough scrubbing and oiling for a few weeks, and R’nya was in the mood to coddle his dragon.
The bag of soapsand and oils were carried by Xyreith in his front claws, while R’nya sat strapped contentedly to his dragon, enjoying the gentle but definitely much cooler air of the above-cloud range, relishing the diminished temperature before his dragon began to descend, dropping through the clouds to glide in to the lake edge.
Tyrrisath. A pause, and then distinct amusement, He is being scolded. R’nya made no comment, though his expression altered slightly, a subtle indication of his curiosity. Land, but not too close. The lake was large; there was no need to be clustered together like eggs on the Sands.
Sir, Xyreith responded, the large beast settling down a few lengths away, the distance neither here nor there, in the opinion of both rider and dragon. R’nya saluted lazily to S’kef; acknowledging the other man’s presence without specifically inviting nor seeking out companionship. Xyreith dropped the bag of washing things and then crouched down; waiting anxiously as R’nya methodically removed the riding harness. When he was free, Xyreith trotted down the beach and into the fresh water, wings spread and nose dipping under the water as the dragon crooned happily to himself.
Watching the dragon with placid fondness, R’nya found a dry place to sit and began removing his boots.
