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!
30.Mar.13, 02:29 AM
Hunger was something that neither rider or dragon would complain about having to take time out of their day to get under control. Caxith was a bit of a glutton, and had been more than a little spoiled in weyrlinghood. T'rielle, on the other hand, had been on the other end of the spectrum in the past and simply had no interest in ever experiencing the discomfort of an empty stomach as long as he could help it. Today, T'rielle had actually made it to breakfast instead of having to live off of klah for an entire morning. Caxith was not so lucky, and being the easily-bored type, she decided that she wanted to go hunting.
But why do I need to go? It was very nearly a whine, and T'rielle, barechested and displaying a rather impressive case of bedhead, flopped facedown on his half-made bed with a groan. He heard a rumble from outside, and then there was a dragon face filling his doorway. He grimaced at her, knowing exactly what Caxith intended to say before she informed him that he'd be coming with her, whether he was on her back or not. It was a genuine threat--something he had learned the hard way, in fact--and it didn't take long for the greenrider to drag himself dramatically to his feet and finish dressing, quickly giving up on his hair and pulling it into a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck. The green dragon was waiting outside the hut, affecting an exceptionally patient air as soon as T'rielle made his way towards the door (though he didn't miss the marks her restless tail-twitching had left in the dust).
He grinned, but wisely decided not to say anything about it. Instead, he paused to scratch an itch along her spine, before setting about putting his riding straps on. "I need to oil you," he murmured, mostly to himself. Caxith was quick to comfort him, sensing the first twinges of guilt beginning to tug at his heartstrings.
Not the end of the world if it doesn't get done today. I'm still hungry.
"Alright, alright, let's go get you fed. You'd think I wasn't feeding you, either."
You're babbling again.
"I am not, you ungrateful wherry." And with that, he scrambled atop the green dragon's back, slapping her neck once he was securely settled and strapped in (he'd tried, many times, to convince the dragon that he didn't need them, that he was perfectly capable of hanging on just fine by himself, but either Caxith had an inflated sense of her own acrobatics or a more realistic knowledge of her rider's). Caxith crouched, gathering herself as her wings rose, then with a mighty downstroke and a quiet grunt she leapt into the air, and as soon as she was above the level of even the tallest of huts, blinked between.
Caxith enjoyed the hunting itself almost as much as she enjoyed the eating, and despite all of his bitching and moaning, T'rielle never grew tired of the experience. The gore, honestly, he could have done without, and the first couple times had ended in a less than pleasant manner. It was quickly discovered that Caxith was not a fan of puke, and it wasn't exactly a walk in the park for her rider, either.
Emerging from between, T'rielle looked down and had to laugh. Caxith's placement was quite perfect, having appeared a hundred feet above a flock of fat herdbeasts. The green rumbled in agreement as she hovered briefly, taking the moment to single out her prey before deftly folding her wings and dropping like a rock.
But why do I need to go? It was very nearly a whine, and T'rielle, barechested and displaying a rather impressive case of bedhead, flopped facedown on his half-made bed with a groan. He heard a rumble from outside, and then there was a dragon face filling his doorway. He grimaced at her, knowing exactly what Caxith intended to say before she informed him that he'd be coming with her, whether he was on her back or not. It was a genuine threat--something he had learned the hard way, in fact--and it didn't take long for the greenrider to drag himself dramatically to his feet and finish dressing, quickly giving up on his hair and pulling it into a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck. The green dragon was waiting outside the hut, affecting an exceptionally patient air as soon as T'rielle made his way towards the door (though he didn't miss the marks her restless tail-twitching had left in the dust).
He grinned, but wisely decided not to say anything about it. Instead, he paused to scratch an itch along her spine, before setting about putting his riding straps on. "I need to oil you," he murmured, mostly to himself. Caxith was quick to comfort him, sensing the first twinges of guilt beginning to tug at his heartstrings.
"Alright, alright, let's go get you fed. You'd think I wasn't feeding you, either."
"I am not, you ungrateful wherry." And with that, he scrambled atop the green dragon's back, slapping her neck once he was securely settled and strapped in (he'd tried, many times, to convince the dragon that he didn't need them, that he was perfectly capable of hanging on just fine by himself, but either Caxith had an inflated sense of her own acrobatics or a more realistic knowledge of her rider's). Caxith crouched, gathering herself as her wings rose, then with a mighty downstroke and a quiet grunt she leapt into the air, and as soon as she was above the level of even the tallest of huts, blinked between.
Caxith enjoyed the hunting itself almost as much as she enjoyed the eating, and despite all of his bitching and moaning, T'rielle never grew tired of the experience. The gore, honestly, he could have done without, and the first couple times had ended in a less than pleasant manner. It was quickly discovered that Caxith was not a fan of puke, and it wasn't exactly a walk in the park for her rider, either.
Emerging from between, T'rielle looked down and had to laugh. Caxith's placement was quite perfect, having appeared a hundred feet above a flock of fat herdbeasts. The green rumbled in agreement as she hovered briefly, taking the moment to single out her prey before deftly folding her wings and dropping like a rock.
