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!
19.May.14, 03:08 PM
It had not gone the way it was supposed to, and B’jin was sulking something fierce as he curled against R’nd’s side for the remainder of the Hatching, his fingers woven through those of his lover’s. It was a simple touch, but it kept the greenrider grounded as he shook his head occasionally, an unhappy frown pursing his lips and brown eyes alive with unhappy emotions. Not enough candidates, that was quite clearly the issue at present, and he was sure that S’kef would not let it happen again. Of course, B’jin was also sure the brownrider would use it to his own political advantage. The greenrider could see the unhappy faces on some of the holderfolk that had been brought in, and could hear the murmurings long before the Hatching had finished. S’kef would be a fool not to play to the advantage of the tragic deaths, but B’jin also knew the man would not see the loss as anything too dramatic. They had only been blues and greens, after all.
B’jin took a deep breath, watching as the last egg was picked up and dropped between. He could already feel some of his class looking to him, but he did not have the strength in that moment to field their questions. There would be far too many questions, and he did not have all the answers yet. He did have one, though, and he reached gently for Larrikith. Tell them to mingle with the Holders, he sighed softly, I’ll talk to them before bed, or tomorrow, after everyone has left. If they’re asked, just get them to parrot the lack of candidates as the cause. Larrikith didn’t need more prompting as she started issuing orders happily, sending their class fleeing in every which direction to latch onto the Telgarains, the Masters and the Lords and their Ladies that were spread throughout the gathering. Hopefully some of them would change their tune after seeing what a lack of Candidates could do to the baby dragons.
Or they would use it to hold over the Weyr’s head. B’jin grimaced, and set that aside. It wasn’t his place to dabble in politics anymore; the Halls wouldn’t recognise him as a Harper after all these years, and he was naught but a greenrider to the rest of the world. Leaning up to kiss R’nd gently on the cheek, B’jin gave his hand a squeeze and met sad eyes with sad eyes before puffing out a great sigh, breathing most of it on his lover’s neck. There was nothing more to be done there, and B’jin needed a drink, something good; he was pretty sure S’kef would have secured some good booze to impress their visitors and, with that in mind, the greenrider started bee-lining for the exit, half dragging his lover along behind him.
Hardly paying any attention to those around them, content that the Weyrlings would do their part to socialise on his behalf, B’jin’s gaze slid over several faces. His pace had slowed once out of the Sands to a vague wandering towards alcohol, when he froze in spot and did a double take so fast he shoved R’nd backwards a step with his free hand. Brown eyes gawked at what he saw, fingers frozen in place – one hand woven with R’nd’s and the other resting with splayed fingers across his lover’s chest.B’jin? the green dragon’s head lifted up from the other side of the crowd, and she tilted her head and peered towards them like a bird eyeing off a bug. B’jin did not notice, but N’mor did and began angling in the direction of his father, dragging T’ryn along with him. The young bronzerider had barely dragged his friend two feet before Rhezalth was barging in front, opening up a path for them, and leaving N’mor to throw around apologies as he picked up the pace.
His son had almost joined them, when B’jin seemed to once more regain his sense, or something, and he squealed, a very un-masculine sound of utter joy. B’jin rapidly detangled himself from R’nd, and threw himself across the space between himself and the person he had his sights set on, throwing his arms around the neck of the taller man, and clinging to him as if he thought he might vanish into a puff of smoke. Quennell just smiled, and patted B’jin’s back placidly. B’jin clung to him for several moments, before leaning backwards, cheeks tearstained, and stepped back, gently touching the old Healer’s face, brushing his fingers back through the steel grey hair, shaking his own head before grinning cheekily. Then his eyes widened and he grabbed Quennell’s hand and spun around, dragging the man (who gave a soft laugh and followed without a fight) to where R’nd was standing, the two Weyrling bronzes not far behind.
“R’nd!” he spoke his lover’s name on a gleeful sigh, and flashed him a warm grin. “This is Master Quennell!” He spoke the name as if he’d ever mentioned him to the bluerider, utterly ignorant of the fact that he’d never mentioned him before. “Sir, this is –” a slight pause followed, “R’nd, of Ayyonth,” the besotted smile he gave the bluerider told Quennell everything the lack of a title did not. B’jin bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, not letting go of Quennell’s hand, even as he wriggled in against R’nd’s side once more.
B’jin took a deep breath, watching as the last egg was picked up and dropped between. He could already feel some of his class looking to him, but he did not have the strength in that moment to field their questions. There would be far too many questions, and he did not have all the answers yet. He did have one, though, and he reached gently for Larrikith. Tell them to mingle with the Holders, he sighed softly, I’ll talk to them before bed, or tomorrow, after everyone has left. If they’re asked, just get them to parrot the lack of candidates as the cause. Larrikith didn’t need more prompting as she started issuing orders happily, sending their class fleeing in every which direction to latch onto the Telgarains, the Masters and the Lords and their Ladies that were spread throughout the gathering. Hopefully some of them would change their tune after seeing what a lack of Candidates could do to the baby dragons.
Or they would use it to hold over the Weyr’s head. B’jin grimaced, and set that aside. It wasn’t his place to dabble in politics anymore; the Halls wouldn’t recognise him as a Harper after all these years, and he was naught but a greenrider to the rest of the world. Leaning up to kiss R’nd gently on the cheek, B’jin gave his hand a squeeze and met sad eyes with sad eyes before puffing out a great sigh, breathing most of it on his lover’s neck. There was nothing more to be done there, and B’jin needed a drink, something good; he was pretty sure S’kef would have secured some good booze to impress their visitors and, with that in mind, the greenrider started bee-lining for the exit, half dragging his lover along behind him.
Hardly paying any attention to those around them, content that the Weyrlings would do their part to socialise on his behalf, B’jin’s gaze slid over several faces. His pace had slowed once out of the Sands to a vague wandering towards alcohol, when he froze in spot and did a double take so fast he shoved R’nd backwards a step with his free hand. Brown eyes gawked at what he saw, fingers frozen in place – one hand woven with R’nd’s and the other resting with splayed fingers across his lover’s chest.
His son had almost joined them, when B’jin seemed to once more regain his sense, or something, and he squealed, a very un-masculine sound of utter joy. B’jin rapidly detangled himself from R’nd, and threw himself across the space between himself and the person he had his sights set on, throwing his arms around the neck of the taller man, and clinging to him as if he thought he might vanish into a puff of smoke. Quennell just smiled, and patted B’jin’s back placidly. B’jin clung to him for several moments, before leaning backwards, cheeks tearstained, and stepped back, gently touching the old Healer’s face, brushing his fingers back through the steel grey hair, shaking his own head before grinning cheekily. Then his eyes widened and he grabbed Quennell’s hand and spun around, dragging the man (who gave a soft laugh and followed without a fight) to where R’nd was standing, the two Weyrling bronzes not far behind.
“R’nd!” he spoke his lover’s name on a gleeful sigh, and flashed him a warm grin. “This is Master Quennell!” He spoke the name as if he’d ever mentioned him to the bluerider, utterly ignorant of the fact that he’d never mentioned him before. “Sir, this is –” a slight pause followed, “R’nd, of Ayyonth,” the besotted smile he gave the bluerider told Quennell everything the lack of a title did not. B’jin bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, not letting go of Quennell’s hand, even as he wriggled in against R’nd’s side once more.
