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!
02.Sep.12, 11:17 PM
Talian rubbed his temples. Perhaps that had come out wrong. As emotionally delicate as the man could be, however, he was pretty thick skinned when it came to passive aggressive insults and ugly glares. He figured Sanderon had every right to be pissed off, but that didn't erase his stubborn narrow-mindedness. Sanderon didn't have any friends for the same reason Talian never had friends back home; lack of effort. Tal knew a like-mind when he saw one.
"You're not a crazy person," he said with appraisal. "You're a stressed person. There's a big difference," he said, pointing one finger at the other man almost like a teacher would point at students. "And crying isn't a sign of weakness." Sand had never said that outright, but Talian was smart enough to pick up on things like that. "It's an altered breathing pattern caused by an emotional response to trauma, fear, or happiness. It's...an emotional outlet."
He frowned once more. "Outlets are important. Your record says you are a hunter. If you were selected by the searchrider..." Try as he might, he couldn't hide the disdain in his voice. "....You must be skilled. At least above average, but I'd imagine that if you were deemed dangerous enough to take your weapon from you, possibly much more advanced." He was guessing out loud, but if Talian would do anything, it was educated-guessing. And stitches. He was good at stitches.
"The fact that you didn't throw a fit at me when I offended you shows that your emotional state is already much more stable," he rattled on. He realized in a sudden flurry of self-consciousness that he was flipping between casual and medical again. In this case, he decided not to fight it.
He sighed. "I'm sorry for speaking harshly. I didn't intend to sound that way." Not that he expected this rude bastard to apologize for the horribly insensitive thing he'd said (which Tal was still silently fuming over). Tal didn't expect anyone to apologize to anyone, least of not to him. Tal was also well-capable of handling it, though. He managed a smile, a modest but not entirely insincere one, and leaned back in his chair. The conversation had been trying, but he wasn't about to throw a fit and stomp out. He didn't have the spine or the inclination to do so, and besides...this was a patient, and a prisoner just like him.
Talian often had trouble interpreting other people's reactions and mindsets. Now, he sat silently, waiting to see what this Sanderon would say to him. Tal was curious, but he was also a little nervous to risk conversation outside of the mental evaluation. What if he got in a situation where he had to talk?
"You're not a crazy person," he said with appraisal. "You're a stressed person. There's a big difference," he said, pointing one finger at the other man almost like a teacher would point at students. "And crying isn't a sign of weakness." Sand had never said that outright, but Talian was smart enough to pick up on things like that. "It's an altered breathing pattern caused by an emotional response to trauma, fear, or happiness. It's...an emotional outlet."
He frowned once more. "Outlets are important. Your record says you are a hunter. If you were selected by the searchrider..." Try as he might, he couldn't hide the disdain in his voice. "....You must be skilled. At least above average, but I'd imagine that if you were deemed dangerous enough to take your weapon from you, possibly much more advanced." He was guessing out loud, but if Talian would do anything, it was educated-guessing. And stitches. He was good at stitches.
"The fact that you didn't throw a fit at me when I offended you shows that your emotional state is already much more stable," he rattled on. He realized in a sudden flurry of self-consciousness that he was flipping between casual and medical again. In this case, he decided not to fight it.
He sighed. "I'm sorry for speaking harshly. I didn't intend to sound that way." Not that he expected this rude bastard to apologize for the horribly insensitive thing he'd said (which Tal was still silently fuming over). Tal didn't expect anyone to apologize to anyone, least of not to him. Tal was also well-capable of handling it, though. He managed a smile, a modest but not entirely insincere one, and leaned back in his chair. The conversation had been trying, but he wasn't about to throw a fit and stomp out. He didn't have the spine or the inclination to do so, and besides...this was a patient, and a prisoner just like him.
Talian often had trouble interpreting other people's reactions and mindsets. Now, he sat silently, waiting to see what this Sanderon would say to him. Tal was curious, but he was also a little nervous to risk conversation outside of the mental evaluation. What if he got in a situation where he had to talk?
