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!
15.Dec.23, 05:02 AM
Thanks to spending the morning plucking mushrooms from the manure garden of despair, Orgailian smelled like the chamber pots he helped empty every other day from the lower caverns. Thankfully, the two slop buckets he currently carried from the kitchen out into the cool late afternoon with the setting sun were only filled with the vegetable peelings from the dinner prep. He wasn't even given the task of pushing the wheelbarrow. That would have been too kind or easy, and Orgailian suspected, too sexy.
It had taken several days after S'far doled out the punishment to realise that he had been given the most disgusting tasks that were also hard to make look good. if he had been given the task of mucking the stables, that could have been done sexily--Orgailian knew that for a fact from having watched Fetch do it a few times. But no, he got to dig through shit in a dark room, carry other people's shit to the dragon removal area, and lug buckets of fragrant bits of veggies to the cattle pens across the Weyr.
He had never pegged S'far as being so cruel.
He couldn't even attempt to make the tasks look good by removing his shirt because winter was settling into Telgar nicely. Sure, most of its residents didn't seem to mind and only wore long sleeves or perhaps a thicker sweater, but Orgailian was still on the slender side and acclimatized to Igen and Ista. Telgar was cold, and therefore he was in the thickest sweater he could find that wasn't his and he wouldn't care if it was stained by anything he carried, a scarf wrapped around his neck, and gloves covering his aching hands.
He puffed out a sigh of annoyance as the buckets were set down and the gloves adjusted. He was halfway across the Bowl, though his destination still seemed like it was as far off as Fort. This was his third trip across the lands because the oh-so charming kitchen staff decided to prep a stew for tomorrow's meal on top of the boiled potatoes he'd soon be eating in that night's dinner.
As he was about to grab the pails once more, he swore it sounded like someone was approaching him. With another sigh, Orgailian silently swore that if it was another sibling coming to apologise for the tasks (T'ryn), to cheer him up (Zor), to bond over their misery (Mylorah), or try to offer to help (Wynera), he'd possibly find out what the punishment was for murder. Instead, his glance behind him spotted Qoriene and he wasn't sure if that was any better.
It had taken several days after S'far doled out the punishment to realise that he had been given the most disgusting tasks that were also hard to make look good. if he had been given the task of mucking the stables, that could have been done sexily--Orgailian knew that for a fact from having watched Fetch do it a few times. But no, he got to dig through shit in a dark room, carry other people's shit to the dragon removal area, and lug buckets of fragrant bits of veggies to the cattle pens across the Weyr.
He had never pegged S'far as being so cruel.
He couldn't even attempt to make the tasks look good by removing his shirt because winter was settling into Telgar nicely. Sure, most of its residents didn't seem to mind and only wore long sleeves or perhaps a thicker sweater, but Orgailian was still on the slender side and acclimatized to Igen and Ista. Telgar was cold, and therefore he was in the thickest sweater he could find that wasn't his and he wouldn't care if it was stained by anything he carried, a scarf wrapped around his neck, and gloves covering his aching hands.
He puffed out a sigh of annoyance as the buckets were set down and the gloves adjusted. He was halfway across the Bowl, though his destination still seemed like it was as far off as Fort. This was his third trip across the lands because the oh-so charming kitchen staff decided to prep a stew for tomorrow's meal on top of the boiled potatoes he'd soon be eating in that night's dinner.
As he was about to grab the pails once more, he swore it sounded like someone was approaching him. With another sigh, Orgailian silently swore that if it was another sibling coming to apologise for the tasks (T'ryn), to cheer him up (Zor), to bond over their misery (Mylorah), or try to offer to help (Wynera), he'd possibly find out what the punishment was for murder. Instead, his glance behind him spotted Qoriene and he wasn't sure if that was any better.
