01.Dec.12, 10:05 PM
No! D’ren!
S’kef’s eyes widened and a smile slithered onto his face. Someone’s angry he thought, supremely amused. He could feel Tyrrisath’s fear. As bold and unconcerned with authority as he was, the dragon was still a brown, and this situation had clearly bypassed idle banter. Ronarth was not just angry. Ronarth was out of control.
After his disagreements with D’ren, S’kef found it positively delicious. Poor D’ren. Life is so difficult for himhe mused mockingly, thinking back to the man’s unfair favoritism and his own sudden dismissal from his post. S’kef had once idolized the man. Oh, how he’d been wrong. He wished he was the source of that stupid dragon’s pain right now! How he wished to watch the idiot bronzerider get what was coming to him! Hah, if only it had been possible. But things don’t always work out quite the way you like it. S’kef was still pleased.
S’kef watched as the dining hall became lively with concern. Everyone could hear the dragon’s raging voice, and those bonded to dragons of their own could feel the instinctive terror they felt in the face of an insane bronze. S’kef took a moment to calm Tyrrisath, who was anxious but trying his best to remain calm, and waited to see if what he hoped was going to happen would indeed happen.
D’ren deserved whatever foul end befell him, and from the sounds of that dragon, it had finally happened. Ronarth’s raging was intimidating even to S’kef, but the useless beast would be going between soon. What a delightful silence that would be.
The gossip was already fluttering around him. Was D’ren dead? Had Ronarth gone mad? S’kef found he enjoyed it. He reached under the table, gently seizing J’ver’s hand, and gave it a light squeeze. “Poor old bastard,” he remarked, smirking. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
S’kef’s eyes widened and a smile slithered onto his face. Someone’s angry he thought, supremely amused. He could feel Tyrrisath’s fear. As bold and unconcerned with authority as he was, the dragon was still a brown, and this situation had clearly bypassed idle banter. Ronarth was not just angry. Ronarth was out of control.
After his disagreements with D’ren, S’kef found it positively delicious. Poor D’ren. Life is so difficult for himhe mused mockingly, thinking back to the man’s unfair favoritism and his own sudden dismissal from his post. S’kef had once idolized the man. Oh, how he’d been wrong. He wished he was the source of that stupid dragon’s pain right now! How he wished to watch the idiot bronzerider get what was coming to him! Hah, if only it had been possible. But things don’t always work out quite the way you like it. S’kef was still pleased.
S’kef watched as the dining hall became lively with concern. Everyone could hear the dragon’s raging voice, and those bonded to dragons of their own could feel the instinctive terror they felt in the face of an insane bronze. S’kef took a moment to calm Tyrrisath, who was anxious but trying his best to remain calm, and waited to see if what he hoped was going to happen would indeed happen.
D’ren deserved whatever foul end befell him, and from the sounds of that dragon, it had finally happened. Ronarth’s raging was intimidating even to S’kef, but the useless beast would be going between soon. What a delightful silence that would be.
The gossip was already fluttering around him. Was D’ren dead? Had Ronarth gone mad? S’kef found he enjoyed it. He reached under the table, gently seizing J’ver’s hand, and gave it a light squeeze. “Poor old bastard,” he remarked, smirking. Good riddance to bad rubbish.