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!
04.Mar.13, 11:45 PM
The shock of orange hair was familiar, and it had Isscer wracking his brain as he stared, trying to put a face with the name. It was lucky for him that there weren’t that many male candidate/craftsmen with orange hair; he shot Oahvakeen a look as he gestured at his socks, mouth twisting into a look of disbelief. “I’m surprised you haven’t fainted dead away,” Isscer pointed out, a hint of a sly smile curling the corners of his mouth up.
He dressed in the loosest, lightest clothing he could find, and Isscer still ended up drenched in sweat. There was no way he’d layer anything--he would overheat and get sick, and the slightest hint of any sickness was enough to cause a Weyr-wide panic. “Hardly!” Isscer was good at keeping his head down, though this was primarily because he wasn’t quite sure what he, as one person, could do. The amount of lashings increasing over the Turns hadn’t helped either. “I volunteered to help with the kitchen gardens, but somehow I ended up getting assigned to this detail instead.” He could have been more helpful in the gardens, probably, but he was already here.
“Oahvakeen. That’s who you are.” Isscer bent to pluck an especially large clump of debris from the sand, wincing at the heat of it before he ground it between his fingers to break it up. “I’m Isscer.” He smiled in greeting, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Once you’ve lived here a few years, the faces all blur together. I remembered your hair.” Isscer gestured at Oahvakeen’s orange hair, lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he half-turned.
“If we start in opposite corners and work towards the middle, that might make more sense than just raking anywhere we please,” he observed, more comfortable settling down to work than to continue making small talk. Oahvakeen ought to have considered himself privileged; already Isscer felt like he had done more talking to him than to anyone he could lately recall. “Where’s your rake?”
He dressed in the loosest, lightest clothing he could find, and Isscer still ended up drenched in sweat. There was no way he’d layer anything--he would overheat and get sick, and the slightest hint of any sickness was enough to cause a Weyr-wide panic. “Hardly!” Isscer was good at keeping his head down, though this was primarily because he wasn’t quite sure what he, as one person, could do. The amount of lashings increasing over the Turns hadn’t helped either. “I volunteered to help with the kitchen gardens, but somehow I ended up getting assigned to this detail instead.” He could have been more helpful in the gardens, probably, but he was already here.
“Oahvakeen. That’s who you are.” Isscer bent to pluck an especially large clump of debris from the sand, wincing at the heat of it before he ground it between his fingers to break it up. “I’m Isscer.” He smiled in greeting, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Once you’ve lived here a few years, the faces all blur together. I remembered your hair.” Isscer gestured at Oahvakeen’s orange hair, lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he half-turned.
“If we start in opposite corners and work towards the middle, that might make more sense than just raking anywhere we please,” he observed, more comfortable settling down to work than to continue making small talk. Oahvakeen ought to have considered himself privileged; already Isscer felt like he had done more talking to him than to anyone he could lately recall. “Where’s your rake?”
