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.Apr.18, 05:23 AM
Jalazmar sighed as he flopped into a surprisingly comfortable chair in his guest quarters. Well, he was in Fort Hold. He was halfway to becoming a husband! That was so depressing. It wasn’t that he dreaded the idea of being married, just that it wasn’t his idea and he knew nothing about the woman. He was just expected to show up, say his vows, and consummate the marriage properly in bed later that night. At least he knew his last two proposed fiancées. Well, when they were barely into their teens, so did that really count? And then one died and he ditched the other by staying in Telgar longer than he should have. No wonder his father was tired of his antics and wanted him wed and tied down.
“Bet she’s old,” he mumbled to no one but himself as he sat alone in his room. A dragonriding friend, Z’rin, had picked him and his brother Gabrin up no more than an hour ago to bring him and his one trunk and two bags of belongings to his new home. Z’rin had left soon after the drop off and Gabrin was off properly introducing himself to Therion and playing ambassador for his father-in-law, the Lord of Telgar.
“Probably has sagging tits and maybe even fat,” he added to the lovely image he was creating of his almost-bride in his head as he stared at a tapestry hanging on the wall opposite him. Jalazmar was convinced his father had found him some aging widow as punishment for any embarrassment he had given High Reaches, though he really didn’t think he had blemished their name. Gabrin, on the other hand, could have shamed them into the ground if it wasn’t for the fact that he was sneaky as hell and charismatic.
Fat, old, sagging breasts, and likely with an army of kids from her previous marriage. Maybe he should have ran off with the cute tavern maid at the Whetstone. Although rumours suggested she had a lover and wasn’t interested in settling down again. Oh, she was a widow! There was hope! Though, probably not.
A knock on his door broke him out of his misery and before Jalazmar could say anything or get out of his chair, the door opened. He saw Gabrin enter with his trademark smirk before bowing as if he were a servant. “My Lord Jalazmar, your bride-to-be is here to see you.”
Jalazmar flopped back into his chair which left him facing away from the door and the woman that likely walked in after his brother. Poor woman likely believed Gabrin actually was just some servant. Did that make his fiancée dumb or naïve on top of everything else as well?
Best to get the shock and introductions over with before their wedding day which was only a week away. “Let her in and you may go,” he ordered to his brother without a glance, though he heard Gabrin snort softly in amusement as the door closed. He assumed he was alone with his bride now and Jalazmar wasn’t sure what to say or do. So he continued to sit there, preparing himself for what he was about to be stuck with for who knew how long.
Likely not long if she was old and widowed.
Small miracles.
“Bet she’s old,” he mumbled to no one but himself as he sat alone in his room. A dragonriding friend, Z’rin, had picked him and his brother Gabrin up no more than an hour ago to bring him and his one trunk and two bags of belongings to his new home. Z’rin had left soon after the drop off and Gabrin was off properly introducing himself to Therion and playing ambassador for his father-in-law, the Lord of Telgar.
“Probably has sagging tits and maybe even fat,” he added to the lovely image he was creating of his almost-bride in his head as he stared at a tapestry hanging on the wall opposite him. Jalazmar was convinced his father had found him some aging widow as punishment for any embarrassment he had given High Reaches, though he really didn’t think he had blemished their name. Gabrin, on the other hand, could have shamed them into the ground if it wasn’t for the fact that he was sneaky as hell and charismatic.
Fat, old, sagging breasts, and likely with an army of kids from her previous marriage. Maybe he should have ran off with the cute tavern maid at the Whetstone. Although rumours suggested she had a lover and wasn’t interested in settling down again. Oh, she was a widow! There was hope! Though, probably not.
A knock on his door broke him out of his misery and before Jalazmar could say anything or get out of his chair, the door opened. He saw Gabrin enter with his trademark smirk before bowing as if he were a servant. “My Lord Jalazmar, your bride-to-be is here to see you.”
Jalazmar flopped back into his chair which left him facing away from the door and the woman that likely walked in after his brother. Poor woman likely believed Gabrin actually was just some servant. Did that make his fiancée dumb or naïve on top of everything else as well?
Best to get the shock and introductions over with before their wedding day which was only a week away. “Let her in and you may go,” he ordered to his brother without a glance, though he heard Gabrin snort softly in amusement as the door closed. He assumed he was alone with his bride now and Jalazmar wasn’t sure what to say or do. So he continued to sit there, preparing himself for what he was about to be stuck with for who knew how long.
Likely not long if she was old and widowed.
Small miracles.
