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!
03.Feb.23, 10:35 PM
It was his third day on the road. He didn't really want to go through his pack because he was sure he was just going to count up his dwindling food again and get pissed off so Ereben wasn't going to open his pack at all today. At all. He'd figure out food and water while he walked, even if it was cold. Being Holdless meant that hunger wasn't unknown to him. He was used to scrapping around for food.
Still, Ereben had his bola wrapped around his hand just in case he spotted a small wherry. He couldn't remember how far it was to the next Hold. He had purposefully avoided the ones that his father...frequented...so that he distanced himself in just another way from the long line of shit his father had done. He wanted to find somewhere new, maybe out of this area entirely, where he could start over. No past, no lineage. None of that shit.
Or he'd just starve to death or get killed by a tunnel snake.
Still beat being where he was.
Ereben looked up at the irregular cliffs nearby. He had spent most of the morning in the forest and now he was at a break in it, as the rocks were stacked like pillars trying to touch the sky. Maybe if he could climb up one high enough, he could figure out where a Hold was. Beat just wandering down a road, dodging into bushes whenever he heard others just in case it was his father's goons.
Ereben readjusted his pack. He winced as it scraped against the still-healing scars on his back. Just another reminder. Determined, he gripped the first rock and pulled himself up, ignoring the pain in his back. He'd been through worse. He could climb rocks. He wasn't going to go back. He wasn't going back.
Rock by rock, he repeated that litany against muscles that protested being used so early. About halfway up, the remaining canopy broke away. The wind playfully ran its fingers through his dark hair. Another few rocks up, he stopped, hauling himself up on a ledge, draping his arms over his knees. In the distance were the peaks of High Reaches. Wasn't there a Weyr there? Could he go there? Probably not. Dragons hated Holdless, that's what everyone said.
Ereben looked away from the peaks towards other points of possible interest. There was a clearing maybe a few miles away? Hard to tell distance. That might work. Wasn't in the direction he had come so that was another plus. There was another one much further out that might be the clearing of a Hold, might just be a small lake. Ereben scowled.
He broke his rule of the day, dug into his pack, and pulled out a piece of fruit to eat while he thought about what to do next.
Still, Ereben had his bola wrapped around his hand just in case he spotted a small wherry. He couldn't remember how far it was to the next Hold. He had purposefully avoided the ones that his father...frequented...so that he distanced himself in just another way from the long line of shit his father had done. He wanted to find somewhere new, maybe out of this area entirely, where he could start over. No past, no lineage. None of that shit.
Or he'd just starve to death or get killed by a tunnel snake.
Still beat being where he was.
Ereben looked up at the irregular cliffs nearby. He had spent most of the morning in the forest and now he was at a break in it, as the rocks were stacked like pillars trying to touch the sky. Maybe if he could climb up one high enough, he could figure out where a Hold was. Beat just wandering down a road, dodging into bushes whenever he heard others just in case it was his father's goons.
Ereben readjusted his pack. He winced as it scraped against the still-healing scars on his back. Just another reminder. Determined, he gripped the first rock and pulled himself up, ignoring the pain in his back. He'd been through worse. He could climb rocks. He wasn't going to go back. He wasn't going back.
Rock by rock, he repeated that litany against muscles that protested being used so early. About halfway up, the remaining canopy broke away. The wind playfully ran its fingers through his dark hair. Another few rocks up, he stopped, hauling himself up on a ledge, draping his arms over his knees. In the distance were the peaks of High Reaches. Wasn't there a Weyr there? Could he go there? Probably not. Dragons hated Holdless, that's what everyone said.
Ereben looked away from the peaks towards other points of possible interest. There was a clearing maybe a few miles away? Hard to tell distance. That might work. Wasn't in the direction he had come so that was another plus. There was another one much further out that might be the clearing of a Hold, might just be a small lake. Ereben scowled.
He broke his rule of the day, dug into his pack, and pulled out a piece of fruit to eat while he thought about what to do next.
