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.Mar.12, 05:14 AM
Published on Fanfiction.net with permission of all involved Authors on January 5th, 2012 at this location: Link
After a week of working his arse off, literally, on a list of chores that changed daily for D'ren, who seemed to feel they would either keep B'jin out of trouble, out of the air, or occupied - probably all three - B'jin was well and truly sick of being asked to do boring, menial tasks he hadn't had to slough his way through for a decade or two. Mostly, however, he was entirely too sick and tired of being grumpy and irritable with the children he loved but had rarely seen for the past sevenday. So, after receiving his new and entirely disgusting list from D'ren's new bitch (apparently he was being avoided now), B'jin had half heartedly done the first three tasks on it (the most important ones, which he couldn't get away with avoiding) before tossing the parchment list on the table and promptly requested Larrikith round his brats up and meet him in the Gather Square.
With Larrikith being literally grounded by the Weyrleader's dragons, she had been particularly temperamental for most of the week, and taken to hunting far more than she actually needed to, since that was the only time she was technically allowed in the air (B'jin was just glad he'd been spared the horror of hand feeding a fully grown dragon, though he was surprised he was granted that much leeway. He'd never seen D'ren that pissed off before!). As a result, the green dragon that was currently sprawled on the gather square before B'jin was quite a bit more round than she was usually known to be. She was also in a particularly good mood, as she stretched out on her back, wings spread to either side and tail flicking idly as she twisted her head from side to side to watch the growing number of brats that were climbing all over her like she was a play gym.
It had taken a while, before the brats freed from their morning classes were at ease enough to approach the little green. She had, after all, enhanced her spiteful and dangerous reputation tenfold that night a week ago, when she had taken to tossing Weyrfolk bodily across the grasses surrounding the Healer Hall. That, however, would never ware off B'jin's young children. Amorandii, at five turns, was hard to intimidate at any rate, having been as good as raised at the claw and maw of the temperamental green. The little girl, her blonde hair flying, was the first to scramble up Larrikith's side and all over the green, giggling and squealing as she teased her brother, Indamor, who at eight, considered himself generally much too grown up for such antics. There was only so much teasing a boy could take, however, before he'd set after his sister with determination, turning Larrikith's wibbly-wobbly body into a gym to scramble up and over, or around, as he chased the little girl. It didn't take long for their laughter and giggling insult throwing (B'jin was positive Larri was feeding them curses) attracted the attention of their class mates and friends.
Several lengths away, B'jin was sprawled out on the grass, laying on his stomach. His knees were bent, the remainder of his legs rising up and his ankles crossed. He was swinging them absently as he rested his chin in his right hand, while his left tapped the handle of his paint brush against his chin absently. Directly in front of him, carefully anchored on the grass, was a large piece of lovingly created parchment. Further surrounding it, were pots of paint, each one containing a colour; there were about twenty in all. A small cup of water sat by B'jin's right elbow, dirty from the constant washing of his paintbrush.
The sheet of paper was being delicately attended to, as B'jin watched the growing number of children scramble on Larrikith, the green dragon grunting occasionally when someone stepped on a delicate part of her stomach or tripped on a wing bone. For the most part, however, the pudgy dragon appeared to be enjoying herself immensely. B'jin was painting the scene, watching it take shape with a critical eye. He was out of practise with the paints, and as far as he was concerned, it showed immensely. Despite his own criticism, it was a well structured piece of art. However, the man seemed to have forgotten it, as he lazily watched the dragon and her infestation of children.
After a week of working his arse off, literally, on a list of chores that changed daily for D'ren, who seemed to feel they would either keep B'jin out of trouble, out of the air, or occupied - probably all three - B'jin was well and truly sick of being asked to do boring, menial tasks he hadn't had to slough his way through for a decade or two. Mostly, however, he was entirely too sick and tired of being grumpy and irritable with the children he loved but had rarely seen for the past sevenday. So, after receiving his new and entirely disgusting list from D'ren's new bitch (apparently he was being avoided now), B'jin had half heartedly done the first three tasks on it (the most important ones, which he couldn't get away with avoiding) before tossing the parchment list on the table and promptly requested Larrikith round his brats up and meet him in the Gather Square.
With Larrikith being literally grounded by the Weyrleader's dragons, she had been particularly temperamental for most of the week, and taken to hunting far more than she actually needed to, since that was the only time she was technically allowed in the air (B'jin was just glad he'd been spared the horror of hand feeding a fully grown dragon, though he was surprised he was granted that much leeway. He'd never seen D'ren that pissed off before!). As a result, the green dragon that was currently sprawled on the gather square before B'jin was quite a bit more round than she was usually known to be. She was also in a particularly good mood, as she stretched out on her back, wings spread to either side and tail flicking idly as she twisted her head from side to side to watch the growing number of brats that were climbing all over her like she was a play gym.
It had taken a while, before the brats freed from their morning classes were at ease enough to approach the little green. She had, after all, enhanced her spiteful and dangerous reputation tenfold that night a week ago, when she had taken to tossing Weyrfolk bodily across the grasses surrounding the Healer Hall. That, however, would never ware off B'jin's young children. Amorandii, at five turns, was hard to intimidate at any rate, having been as good as raised at the claw and maw of the temperamental green. The little girl, her blonde hair flying, was the first to scramble up Larrikith's side and all over the green, giggling and squealing as she teased her brother, Indamor, who at eight, considered himself generally much too grown up for such antics. There was only so much teasing a boy could take, however, before he'd set after his sister with determination, turning Larrikith's wibbly-wobbly body into a gym to scramble up and over, or around, as he chased the little girl. It didn't take long for their laughter and giggling insult throwing (B'jin was positive Larri was feeding them curses) attracted the attention of their class mates and friends.
Several lengths away, B'jin was sprawled out on the grass, laying on his stomach. His knees were bent, the remainder of his legs rising up and his ankles crossed. He was swinging them absently as he rested his chin in his right hand, while his left tapped the handle of his paint brush against his chin absently. Directly in front of him, carefully anchored on the grass, was a large piece of lovingly created parchment. Further surrounding it, were pots of paint, each one containing a colour; there were about twenty in all. A small cup of water sat by B'jin's right elbow, dirty from the constant washing of his paintbrush.
The sheet of paper was being delicately attended to, as B'jin watched the growing number of children scramble on Larrikith, the green dragon grunting occasionally when someone stepped on a delicate part of her stomach or tripped on a wing bone. For the most part, however, the pudgy dragon appeared to be enjoying herself immensely. B'jin was painting the scene, watching it take shape with a critical eye. He was out of practise with the paints, and as far as he was concerned, it showed immensely. Despite his own criticism, it was a well structured piece of art. However, the man seemed to have forgotten it, as he lazily watched the dragon and her infestation of children.
