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.Mar.12, 10:29 PM
Breccan was a bit surprised at Talian's description of this B'jin. Even the small warming of his tone was significantly more than she'd ever heard out of him, and she was somewhat reassured that Talian was capable of such human feelings. Perhaps her suspicions that he preferred men were correct, though he asserted that B'jin was a fatherly figure, not a romantic one. She reflected that she'd heard Talian had a girlfriend, some other Healer in the Hall, but she'd dismissed those rumors as exactly that: rumors. Surely the immortal, grand Talian wasn't so mundane as to fall for someone less remarkable than he was. It was interesting to meet the actual Talian and compare him to all the wild stories she'd heard. He really wasn't at all what she'd expected.
Kindred spirits. More than anything else, she caught that phrase, and some deep part of her surged. That was what she wanted. Someone different, not like her, but kindred, but same, at some fundamental soul-deep level that could never be refuted. If she did Impress a male dragon, she wondered, would she lose her need for a male human? Or was it a different kind of love? She was tempted by that idea, being so in love with your Blue or Brown that you no longer required the inconstant, unreliable love men offered. Perhaps Blue or Brown would be best. Something in her recognized that as cowardly. She wanted to believe that was possible because it was so much safer than letting someone close, letting them know you, and risking that they wouldn't like what they saw. The dragon would already know you, and love you until the end of your days and his. Of course that was safer.
Talian's question broke through her musing, and she caught the new changes on his face. The similar name, the change in attitude; with a touch of sympathy, she realized it was almost certainly his father. With the ease of long practice, she hid that knowing and the sympathy, listening with no more than polite interest as she took another spoonful of stew. When he admitted Talerian was his father, she allowed that sympathy to touch her eyes, but no more, chewing slowly as she listened. She knew precisely who he was talking about, had in fact had him for suturing. Once she'd very nearly thought he was going to compliment her on her row of neat, tight practice stitches, and instead he'd pointed out she'd done a sloppy job of tying off. A man that criticized the knot at the end of the life-saving procedure wouldn't be an easy man to grow up with. For the first time, she felt she understood something about Talian.
Carefully, she took another bite of stew, timing it so that she'd be chewing when he was done talking. She needed the time, to think. Talerian had been furious, she knew that well enough. Worried though? On some level she guessed that if he were, he'd be more likely to express it in anger than in sorrow, but she was not a mind-healer, and had no training in delving into someone else's psyche. Whether the man had been angry to hide his fear for his son or simply because his legacy had been taken was anyone's guess, and it wasn't something she was willing to put marks on.
"Sorry," she said, her tone unusually soft, "I was halfway across Pern when you were taken. It took me a almost a month to make it back to Fort, and I wasn't even there a week before I was stolen." A trace of bitterness crept into her tone. There was no point in telling Talian she'd hoped to take his place, but that the opportunity had been taken from her still rankled.
"I know Talerian was extremely upset. The drudges wouldn't come near him," she offered, "But more than that, I cannot say. We weren't on visiting terms." That was all true enough. Apprentices had been forced into bringing Talerian meals, but they bickered vociferously amongst themselves about who would have to do it. Frankly, though, the mental state of her old, wildly unpleasant suturing Master hadn't really been on her mind at the time. That probably wasn't something she could say, but Talian was perceptive enough. He was probably aware by now that her priorities were rarely 'how is so-and-so feeling today?'
"I wish I could tell you more," she said, a bit wistfully. She did like Talian. She did want to have someone she could count as a friend here, even an unstable weirdo of a Master Healer. But she could hardly see what she had to offer him in return. Obviously he'd built solid relationships here, and he outranked her, had more knowledge than she did. She didn't know any other way to measure herself; only accomplishments seemed to make sense. By that strict standard, she knew she was useless to him. That didn't exactly crush her, but she wasn't happy about it either.
Kindred spirits. More than anything else, she caught that phrase, and some deep part of her surged. That was what she wanted. Someone different, not like her, but kindred, but same, at some fundamental soul-deep level that could never be refuted. If she did Impress a male dragon, she wondered, would she lose her need for a male human? Or was it a different kind of love? She was tempted by that idea, being so in love with your Blue or Brown that you no longer required the inconstant, unreliable love men offered. Perhaps Blue or Brown would be best. Something in her recognized that as cowardly. She wanted to believe that was possible because it was so much safer than letting someone close, letting them know you, and risking that they wouldn't like what they saw. The dragon would already know you, and love you until the end of your days and his. Of course that was safer.
Talian's question broke through her musing, and she caught the new changes on his face. The similar name, the change in attitude; with a touch of sympathy, she realized it was almost certainly his father. With the ease of long practice, she hid that knowing and the sympathy, listening with no more than polite interest as she took another spoonful of stew. When he admitted Talerian was his father, she allowed that sympathy to touch her eyes, but no more, chewing slowly as she listened. She knew precisely who he was talking about, had in fact had him for suturing. Once she'd very nearly thought he was going to compliment her on her row of neat, tight practice stitches, and instead he'd pointed out she'd done a sloppy job of tying off. A man that criticized the knot at the end of the life-saving procedure wouldn't be an easy man to grow up with. For the first time, she felt she understood something about Talian.
Carefully, she took another bite of stew, timing it so that she'd be chewing when he was done talking. She needed the time, to think. Talerian had been furious, she knew that well enough. Worried though? On some level she guessed that if he were, he'd be more likely to express it in anger than in sorrow, but she was not a mind-healer, and had no training in delving into someone else's psyche. Whether the man had been angry to hide his fear for his son or simply because his legacy had been taken was anyone's guess, and it wasn't something she was willing to put marks on.
"Sorry," she said, her tone unusually soft, "I was halfway across Pern when you were taken. It took me a almost a month to make it back to Fort, and I wasn't even there a week before I was stolen." A trace of bitterness crept into her tone. There was no point in telling Talian she'd hoped to take his place, but that the opportunity had been taken from her still rankled.
"I know Talerian was extremely upset. The drudges wouldn't come near him," she offered, "But more than that, I cannot say. We weren't on visiting terms." That was all true enough. Apprentices had been forced into bringing Talerian meals, but they bickered vociferously amongst themselves about who would have to do it. Frankly, though, the mental state of her old, wildly unpleasant suturing Master hadn't really been on her mind at the time. That probably wasn't something she could say, but Talian was perceptive enough. He was probably aware by now that her priorities were rarely 'how is so-and-so feeling today?'
"I wish I could tell you more," she said, a bit wistfully. She did like Talian. She did want to have someone she could count as a friend here, even an unstable weirdo of a Master Healer. But she could hardly see what she had to offer him in return. Obviously he'd built solid relationships here, and he outranked her, had more knowledge than she did. She didn't know any other way to measure herself; only accomplishments seemed to make sense. By that strict standard, she knew she was useless to him. That didn't exactly crush her, but she wasn't happy about it either.
