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!
12.Mar.13, 07:45 PM
Bordtai’s appearance was very similar to Isscer’s, skin bright red from scrubbing and he’d even attempted to run his fingers through his naturally curly hair, though it was for very different reasons. While Isscer was worried about lashings, Bordtai knew that he had to prove that he was ready to be there. After all, he was finally in his 12th turn and by rights old enough to stand for the clutch as a child of the Weyr. Sure, he was the smallest boy who showed up for the candidate classes – small enough that he’d even needed to go and find another rider who would vouch to the Weyrling Master that he was, in fact, old enough.
Of course, after one of the candidate classes there had also been the problem of some of the larger Weyrbrats claiming that he was a dimglow and shouldn’t be allowed to stand. They’d almost convinced the adults of that too, until Bordtai lucked out and the questions that were asked of him had nothing to do with reading and letters. Instead they had been about the dragons with a few number questions tossed in. Bordtai might not be able to read and he might struggle with spelling his own name with a pen, but numbers in his head he could do with the best of them.
And so it was, Bordtai stood there with his face and arms rosy-pink from scrubbing and his hands freshly washed as well. Even his hand-me-down clothes were clean and he was wearing the best set he owned, given to him during a rainstorm by a bronze rider of the Weyr. It seemed fitting to Bordtai to wear a dragonrider’s clothing if he wished to become a dragonrider himself.
Shifting from one foot to another, Bordtai did so not out of discomfort (his boots were just thick enough to let him ignore the heat) but out of excitement. How many times had he snuck out to watch a hatching? Now he was going to be able to touch the eggs! Oh which one would he touch? They’d said to touch as many as they wanted with exception of the gold egg – but what boy would want a gold dragon anyways? Bordtai wanted a dragon that flamed. He wanted to be a fighting member of the Weyr. He wanted to finally be able to be on level ground with the older, larger Weyrbrats.
Seeing an opening at one of the eggs, Bordtai stepped forward. He wasn’t picky, he’d love any color that chose him. Green, Blue or Brown, it didn’t matter. Of course, he didn’t dare dream big enough to believe he might get a Bronze, but he could defiantly be hopeful for a smaller dragon. After all, despite being the butt of many jokes he was still a son of the Weyr. That meant he had a better chance than the men brought here from the North… didn’t it? That was what the other Weyrbrats said between classes either way. Bordtai could believe they’d be right about that at least.
His short, skinny legs finally brought him to the egg that was mostly white but had splashes of color in red and orange around it’s shell. A small washed hand reached out slowly, hesitating just at the shell before laying flat upon it’s surface and Bordtai found wonder at how firm but smooth the egg could be.
Of course, after one of the candidate classes there had also been the problem of some of the larger Weyrbrats claiming that he was a dimglow and shouldn’t be allowed to stand. They’d almost convinced the adults of that too, until Bordtai lucked out and the questions that were asked of him had nothing to do with reading and letters. Instead they had been about the dragons with a few number questions tossed in. Bordtai might not be able to read and he might struggle with spelling his own name with a pen, but numbers in his head he could do with the best of them.
And so it was, Bordtai stood there with his face and arms rosy-pink from scrubbing and his hands freshly washed as well. Even his hand-me-down clothes were clean and he was wearing the best set he owned, given to him during a rainstorm by a bronze rider of the Weyr. It seemed fitting to Bordtai to wear a dragonrider’s clothing if he wished to become a dragonrider himself.
Shifting from one foot to another, Bordtai did so not out of discomfort (his boots were just thick enough to let him ignore the heat) but out of excitement. How many times had he snuck out to watch a hatching? Now he was going to be able to touch the eggs! Oh which one would he touch? They’d said to touch as many as they wanted with exception of the gold egg – but what boy would want a gold dragon anyways? Bordtai wanted a dragon that flamed. He wanted to be a fighting member of the Weyr. He wanted to finally be able to be on level ground with the older, larger Weyrbrats.
Seeing an opening at one of the eggs, Bordtai stepped forward. He wasn’t picky, he’d love any color that chose him. Green, Blue or Brown, it didn’t matter. Of course, he didn’t dare dream big enough to believe he might get a Bronze, but he could defiantly be hopeful for a smaller dragon. After all, despite being the butt of many jokes he was still a son of the Weyr. That meant he had a better chance than the men brought here from the North… didn’t it? That was what the other Weyrbrats said between classes either way. Bordtai could believe they’d be right about that at least.
His short, skinny legs finally brought him to the egg that was mostly white but had splashes of color in red and orange around it’s shell. A small washed hand reached out slowly, hesitating just at the shell before laying flat upon it’s surface and Bordtai found wonder at how firm but smooth the egg could be.
