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.Feb.13, 10:59 PM
It wasn't that Oahvakeen was dumb, not by any standards, just that he was a male: thick, and oblivious to most body language, subtile hints, and just about everything else exclusive to the opposite gender. With his coed observation skills as bad as they were, it was a wonder that he'd even obtained a weyrmate at any point in his life.
And so it was that when a young green rider discovered him hidden away in his craft hall and became captivated by him, that Oahvakeen was gradually exposed to a series of small, but growing tortures. Once in a while, he found a plate of cookies at his bunk room doorsteps. He'd always assumed that they were for whatever roommate he had at the time, so he'd always handed them over, behind his closed door, to his equally baffled roomie, who was always apparently more accepting of gifts than Oahvakeen. Once in a while he found a note scrawled out, in such inticate, tiny letters that he couldn't read it. He'd received several notes, and the story was always the same, and he handed them over to his roommate just as he did with cookies. It never dawned on him that the person who liked to sigh rather loudly and obnoxiously, only did so when he was in the room. It never dawned on him that the jabs to his ribs that he sometimes felt in crowds was one and the same secret admirer trying to make physical contact. It just never dawned on him.
But a soul can only take so much, and upon discovering that all of their gifts had gone to Oahvakeen's roommate, they'd had her fill and now flipped to the other side of their temper-coin. From their perspective, they'd been rejected without closure, and with such an inconsiderate slap in the face as to give away their gifts to others. Now, they were angry.
A plate of cookies had become an uncommon sight to him now. But as it so happened, at this time, he did not have a roommate, so there was no one else to give them to. The thought dawned on him that perhaps they were still meant for his roommate and the person who'd left them was unfamiliar with the move. It didn't make much sense, but neither did free cookies, so he ate them, still without any ideas as to their purpose.
A few hours later, a very drugged Oahvakeen made his way down the Candidate barrack halls, on his way back from the bathroom. His bladder, bowels, and stomach were all equally unhappy, but fortunately could all be serviced in the lavatory, in some form or another. With a bit of vomit still clinging to his chest, he found his way into a room and climbed on the bed. It was a struggle to put his body into a fetal position from all of the pain, sweating, and cramping, but he managed. He hadn't checked that it was his room. He hadn't checked if anyone was in the room. He hadn't even checked if anyone was in the bed. He just knew that he was beyond miserable and this looked close enough to his room. Pain had a funny way of making one not think very well.
And so it was that when a young green rider discovered him hidden away in his craft hall and became captivated by him, that Oahvakeen was gradually exposed to a series of small, but growing tortures. Once in a while, he found a plate of cookies at his bunk room doorsteps. He'd always assumed that they were for whatever roommate he had at the time, so he'd always handed them over, behind his closed door, to his equally baffled roomie, who was always apparently more accepting of gifts than Oahvakeen. Once in a while he found a note scrawled out, in such inticate, tiny letters that he couldn't read it. He'd received several notes, and the story was always the same, and he handed them over to his roommate just as he did with cookies. It never dawned on him that the person who liked to sigh rather loudly and obnoxiously, only did so when he was in the room. It never dawned on him that the jabs to his ribs that he sometimes felt in crowds was one and the same secret admirer trying to make physical contact. It just never dawned on him.
But a soul can only take so much, and upon discovering that all of their gifts had gone to Oahvakeen's roommate, they'd had her fill and now flipped to the other side of their temper-coin. From their perspective, they'd been rejected without closure, and with such an inconsiderate slap in the face as to give away their gifts to others. Now, they were angry.
A plate of cookies had become an uncommon sight to him now. But as it so happened, at this time, he did not have a roommate, so there was no one else to give them to. The thought dawned on him that perhaps they were still meant for his roommate and the person who'd left them was unfamiliar with the move. It didn't make much sense, but neither did free cookies, so he ate them, still without any ideas as to their purpose.
A few hours later, a very drugged Oahvakeen made his way down the Candidate barrack halls, on his way back from the bathroom. His bladder, bowels, and stomach were all equally unhappy, but fortunately could all be serviced in the lavatory, in some form or another. With a bit of vomit still clinging to his chest, he found his way into a room and climbed on the bed. It was a struggle to put his body into a fetal position from all of the pain, sweating, and cramping, but he managed. He hadn't checked that it was his room. He hadn't checked if anyone was in the room. He hadn't even checked if anyone was in the bed. He just knew that he was beyond miserable and this looked close enough to his room. Pain had a funny way of making one not think very well.
