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!
26.Jan.12, 01:22 AM
Gather! Glorious Gather! The food, the music, the glows... and the beautiful women in their beautiful, low-cut summer dresses!
Kerrin stood at the treshold of Gather Square, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips as he surveyed the festivities with the same righteous air of a king watching over newly conquered lands. Now here was an event he'd been waiting all day - nay, all year for, with the same fist-clenching, heart-racing excitement as even the youngest of the weyrbrats. And though he'd teased the little ones earlier in the day for being so abuzz with anticipation that they had been unable to concentrate on their chores, the truth was he as just as bad off as they were, and he had all but raced through each of his tasks so that the tables would be set and the lamps lit with time to spare for him to make a mad dash back to his hut for a bath. Not to mention plenty of time to get dressed, and after that he'd needed yet more time to wrestle his curls into something presentable despite the humid summer weather's insistence that they be little more than a frizzy mop atop his head. But nevermind that! He'd made it, if a little late, and his hard work had paid off: he was by far the best dressed gentlemen present, if he did say so himself. The lavender summer tunic and the tall rider's boots had been a good decision, after all.
Already the square was already bustling and alive with twittering voices and milling bodies that bounced from food to wine to dance. The boy's chest puffed as he inhaled deeply, taking in with gusto the heady mingled scents of roasted meats, sweet bubbly pies, and the lingering traces of the fragrant oils that some of the more clever and dainty girls had rubbed into their hair in preparation for an evening of flirting and romance. A slightly different sort of grin lit on Kerrin's face as amber eyes followed the latest sweet-smelling pair to cross his path, and he wondered which of Katila's many eligible bachelors the two would set their sights on that evening. It wouldn't be him, he knew; they were too old for that... in fact, one was a rider, if he remembered correctly. But nevertheless, even just seeing even the most stoic and hardworking of the women decked out in their very finest, dancing and drinking and laughing with the men in the square, filled him with a sense of joyful satisfaction. When else did the residents of Katila have such an occasion to enjoy themselves like this? Every day at the weyr was just work-work-work, for riders and weyrfolk alike. Every man, woman, and child of every station was expected to pitch in, be it carrying water and lidding glowbaskets for the smallest children or chopping fireword and constructing homes for the most able-bodied men. But tonight? Tonight was different.
Tonight was Gather!
Finally the boy broke from his regal stance, rubbing his hands together eagerly as he plotted his first move. This would surely be the most memorable party of the year, and when he considered that, Kerrin began to think it would be a shame if he didn't start it off with a bang. So why not a bit of wine? He was nearly 18 turns after all, an adult! Too old to be chained down any longer by his overly-cautious father's preaching on the evils of drink to growing bodies. Which was why he strode confidently over to the table lined with waiting wineglasses, picking up a glass of jewel-toned red - it certainly was a beautiful drink. It looked fruity and sweet. So excited was he to finally have a taste of this vice that the adults around him seemed to enjoy so much, in fact, that he didn't even bother to smell it before he'd lifted the glass to his lips... which is exactly why it hit him like an overstuffed sack of firestone when the unexpectedly sour, bitter liquid finally hit his tongue. Young as he was, Kerrin had far too much pride and dignity to spit this foul rotten grape water out all over the table - fortunate for the glasses upon glasses of unclaimed wine that would have suffered from it. He did, however, choke, and was quite dismayed to find that his subsequent coughing fit only allowed the firey taste of alcohol to spread from his tongue to the back of his throat. "Shards! People drink this?!"
Kerrin stood at the treshold of Gather Square, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips as he surveyed the festivities with the same righteous air of a king watching over newly conquered lands. Now here was an event he'd been waiting all day - nay, all year for, with the same fist-clenching, heart-racing excitement as even the youngest of the weyrbrats. And though he'd teased the little ones earlier in the day for being so abuzz with anticipation that they had been unable to concentrate on their chores, the truth was he as just as bad off as they were, and he had all but raced through each of his tasks so that the tables would be set and the lamps lit with time to spare for him to make a mad dash back to his hut for a bath. Not to mention plenty of time to get dressed, and after that he'd needed yet more time to wrestle his curls into something presentable despite the humid summer weather's insistence that they be little more than a frizzy mop atop his head. But nevermind that! He'd made it, if a little late, and his hard work had paid off: he was by far the best dressed gentlemen present, if he did say so himself. The lavender summer tunic and the tall rider's boots had been a good decision, after all.
Already the square was already bustling and alive with twittering voices and milling bodies that bounced from food to wine to dance. The boy's chest puffed as he inhaled deeply, taking in with gusto the heady mingled scents of roasted meats, sweet bubbly pies, and the lingering traces of the fragrant oils that some of the more clever and dainty girls had rubbed into their hair in preparation for an evening of flirting and romance. A slightly different sort of grin lit on Kerrin's face as amber eyes followed the latest sweet-smelling pair to cross his path, and he wondered which of Katila's many eligible bachelors the two would set their sights on that evening. It wouldn't be him, he knew; they were too old for that... in fact, one was a rider, if he remembered correctly. But nevertheless, even just seeing even the most stoic and hardworking of the women decked out in their very finest, dancing and drinking and laughing with the men in the square, filled him with a sense of joyful satisfaction. When else did the residents of Katila have such an occasion to enjoy themselves like this? Every day at the weyr was just work-work-work, for riders and weyrfolk alike. Every man, woman, and child of every station was expected to pitch in, be it carrying water and lidding glowbaskets for the smallest children or chopping fireword and constructing homes for the most able-bodied men. But tonight? Tonight was different.
Tonight was Gather!
Finally the boy broke from his regal stance, rubbing his hands together eagerly as he plotted his first move. This would surely be the most memorable party of the year, and when he considered that, Kerrin began to think it would be a shame if he didn't start it off with a bang. So why not a bit of wine? He was nearly 18 turns after all, an adult! Too old to be chained down any longer by his overly-cautious father's preaching on the evils of drink to growing bodies. Which was why he strode confidently over to the table lined with waiting wineglasses, picking up a glass of jewel-toned red - it certainly was a beautiful drink. It looked fruity and sweet. So excited was he to finally have a taste of this vice that the adults around him seemed to enjoy so much, in fact, that he didn't even bother to smell it before he'd lifted the glass to his lips... which is exactly why it hit him like an overstuffed sack of firestone when the unexpectedly sour, bitter liquid finally hit his tongue. Young as he was, Kerrin had far too much pride and dignity to spit this foul rotten grape water out all over the table - fortunate for the glasses upon glasses of unclaimed wine that would have suffered from it. He did, however, choke, and was quite dismayed to find that his subsequent coughing fit only allowed the firey taste of alcohol to spread from his tongue to the back of his throat. "Shards! People drink this?!"
