02.Mar.21, 02:27 AM
”Excuse me?” Her own dark brow arched toward her hair as her friend dug himself into a verbal hole. What the hell was he talking about; it was perfectly reasonable to be upset with the way he’d been messing up her things. And what was he on about talking about her son like he was the one causing her to be moody? “Of course it’s not Vondlyn. Don’t be an idiot.” Helyna wound the cop of thread a bit more aggressively than needed, then caught herself.
“Fuck,” she muttered, mostly to herself. It was early, wasn’t it? It had been two years the first time, though some golds were on far shorter cycles. Setting the spindle and fiber aside, she stood abruptly and crossed to the door to Iliyith’s space to confirm her theory.
The lighting wasn’t ideal, but the gold did seem brighter than usual. Maybe Vondal had just oiled her? No, Helyna didn’t have that sort of luck. “Fuck,” she swore again, more vehemently this time. At least Vondlyn was with Nem tonight so she didn’t have to worry about him picking up bad words. Heading back into the living room, she poured herself a glass of wine instead of the tea he’d offered to make.
“Iliyith’s going to Fly any day now.” She saw his moment of confusion and clarified, “a mating flight.” She took a long sip of wine, fingers playing with something on the mantel to have something to do. “We pick up on their emotions and they can color our own, especially when the golds or greens are going to mate. We call it being ‘proddy’,” she added, finally sinking back into a chair.
“Fuck,” she muttered, mostly to herself. It was early, wasn’t it? It had been two years the first time, though some golds were on far shorter cycles. Setting the spindle and fiber aside, she stood abruptly and crossed to the door to Iliyith’s space to confirm her theory.
The lighting wasn’t ideal, but the gold did seem brighter than usual. Maybe Vondal had just oiled her? No, Helyna didn’t have that sort of luck. “Fuck,” she swore again, more vehemently this time. At least Vondlyn was with Nem tonight so she didn’t have to worry about him picking up bad words. Heading back into the living room, she poured herself a glass of wine instead of the tea he’d offered to make.
“Iliyith’s going to Fly any day now.” She saw his moment of confusion and clarified, “a mating flight.” She took a long sip of wine, fingers playing with something on the mantel to have something to do. “We pick up on their emotions and they can color our own, especially when the golds or greens are going to mate. We call it being ‘proddy’,” she added, finally sinking back into a chair.