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!
21.Mar.21, 01:58 AM
The whole mood in the Weyr was dark after the thing with the Weyrleader and his family… He wasn’t sure of exact details, but he didn’t need to know them to know something bad had happened. He knew Mardarian, too. Or, had known him. They hadn’t been close, but the boy had been nice.
With all that had happened, Taydarell’s mood was more sullen than it already was. It was a rare time, candidate classes had let out just a tiny bit early, and it was still before dinner. Taydarell found himself wandering around near the lake without anything else to do, having finished his chores earlier in the afternoon.
A spot of color caught his eye, and he found a small bunch of flowers peeking out from between some boulders. Seeds must have carried on the wind and been waiting until now to start to bloom. It was nice to see the pretty colors after a cold and grey winter. Winter seemed so dead. And with so many terrible things happening lately—he’d heard of some things that happened to other riders, too—it was nice to see a little bit of something happy, and the cheerful flowers were just the thing.
He frowned in thought, though. Tradition said that the flowers should be removed, as green things were to be avoided, because Thread would take root if it got a hold of it, even if it were going to be turns before it ever fell again, if it did. Well, green things outside should be removed…Tradition didn’t say anything about green things inside.
Digging at the plant with his fingers, he scooped up as much of the dirt around it as he could and carried it back to the weyr he still shared with his brother. He wouldn’t move to the Candidate’s quarters until Iliyth clutched, and that was still months away. Cradling the plant in one hand, he fumbled through the cupboards until he found an old, dusty bowl at the back and brought it out, settling the plant inside. The bowl was a bit big, the plant sitting low and lopsided inside. He’d need more dirt. Grabbing a smaller cup, he bounded back to where he’d found the thing and scooped up some of the soil, heading back to the weyr with his mood lifted just a bit.
He stopped short, though, at the figure in the hall, standing outside his door, knocking on it. She hadn’t seen him yet. The thing on her shoulder crooned, and he felt his stomach knot up. He was still sad that he hadn’t Impressed that little bronze, who was looking really good. He sighed. It had been an accident. But it was still a stupid accident.
“What do you want, Zarel?” He asked, voice hollow. Seeing Zarel and that little bronze just reminded him how disappointed he was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He mumbled, staring into the cup he carried.
With all that had happened, Taydarell’s mood was more sullen than it already was. It was a rare time, candidate classes had let out just a tiny bit early, and it was still before dinner. Taydarell found himself wandering around near the lake without anything else to do, having finished his chores earlier in the afternoon.
A spot of color caught his eye, and he found a small bunch of flowers peeking out from between some boulders. Seeds must have carried on the wind and been waiting until now to start to bloom. It was nice to see the pretty colors after a cold and grey winter. Winter seemed so dead. And with so many terrible things happening lately—he’d heard of some things that happened to other riders, too—it was nice to see a little bit of something happy, and the cheerful flowers were just the thing.
He frowned in thought, though. Tradition said that the flowers should be removed, as green things were to be avoided, because Thread would take root if it got a hold of it, even if it were going to be turns before it ever fell again, if it did. Well, green things outside should be removed…Tradition didn’t say anything about green things inside.
Digging at the plant with his fingers, he scooped up as much of the dirt around it as he could and carried it back to the weyr he still shared with his brother. He wouldn’t move to the Candidate’s quarters until Iliyth clutched, and that was still months away. Cradling the plant in one hand, he fumbled through the cupboards until he found an old, dusty bowl at the back and brought it out, settling the plant inside. The bowl was a bit big, the plant sitting low and lopsided inside. He’d need more dirt. Grabbing a smaller cup, he bounded back to where he’d found the thing and scooped up some of the soil, heading back to the weyr with his mood lifted just a bit.
He stopped short, though, at the figure in the hall, standing outside his door, knocking on it. She hadn’t seen him yet. The thing on her shoulder crooned, and he felt his stomach knot up. He was still sad that he hadn’t Impressed that little bronze, who was looking really good. He sighed. It had been an accident. But it was still a stupid accident.
“What do you want, Zarel?” He asked, voice hollow. Seeing Zarel and that little bronze just reminded him how disappointed he was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He mumbled, staring into the cup he carried.
