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!
27.May.13, 11:34 PM
Long fingers firmly grasped around the neck of the wine bottle, Warkhim strode through the cellars with a smirk on his face. He dared anyone to question his right to the dry northern red, stolen though it may be, as he passed the bowels of the kitchen, long brown jacket trailing behind him. He didn't often steal from the Lord Holder's personal collection, but the ancient asshole would never notice it was missing and, even if he did, would never attribute the loss to his mild-mannered archivist. No, Derrigan could point fingers in every direction and Warkhim would never be the target, he was certain of that.
He heard a woman's voice- a girl's voice, really- as he passed the putrid kitchen, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead. The drudge, a short brunette with lovely set of hips, appeared to be carrying on a riveting conversation with herself, something Warkhim doubted possible given the general lack of education among the lowborn laborers of Telgar. The tall man sneered the moment he detected a stutter on her tongue- yet another defect in the otherwise passable broodmare. Turning to stride back to his rooms, he swiftly reevaluated his initial dismissal of the drudge. What did he care about a stutter? He didn't need her to talk, and they were already alone now that the other two had walked out, jabbering about aprons or something equally meaningless.
Brushing back his fluffy brown bangs, Warkhim stepped from the shadows, deftly avoiding a table of soapy dishes. Stopping short, he watched the young woman splash her face, water dripping down her front, and he grinned widely. It was like she wanted him to take her right then and there over the dirty dishes. Warkhim found that the younger they were, the easier they fell into bed.
He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss. I can't help but notice how warm this dreary kitchen is," he began. Warkhim jauntily waved the bottle of wine beside his head as he loomed over the small girl. Her youthful face and brown eyes pleased him. "I also can't help notice that I have this delicious wine, and nothing quenches a hard worker's thirst like a well-aged red. Care to partake? I'd be honored to pour you a glass." He lied gracefully through his teeth, earnestly hoping the drudge refused to drink. It would be such a tragedy to waste the expensive wine on her uncultured palette, though he doubted her tolerance was considerable enough to drain the bottle. "I'm Warkhim," he added with a smile.
He heard a woman's voice- a girl's voice, really- as he passed the putrid kitchen, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead. The drudge, a short brunette with lovely set of hips, appeared to be carrying on a riveting conversation with herself, something Warkhim doubted possible given the general lack of education among the lowborn laborers of Telgar. The tall man sneered the moment he detected a stutter on her tongue- yet another defect in the otherwise passable broodmare. Turning to stride back to his rooms, he swiftly reevaluated his initial dismissal of the drudge. What did he care about a stutter? He didn't need her to talk, and they were already alone now that the other two had walked out, jabbering about aprons or something equally meaningless.
Brushing back his fluffy brown bangs, Warkhim stepped from the shadows, deftly avoiding a table of soapy dishes. Stopping short, he watched the young woman splash her face, water dripping down her front, and he grinned widely. It was like she wanted him to take her right then and there over the dirty dishes. Warkhim found that the younger they were, the easier they fell into bed.
He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss. I can't help but notice how warm this dreary kitchen is," he began. Warkhim jauntily waved the bottle of wine beside his head as he loomed over the small girl. Her youthful face and brown eyes pleased him. "I also can't help notice that I have this delicious wine, and nothing quenches a hard worker's thirst like a well-aged red. Care to partake? I'd be honored to pour you a glass." He lied gracefully through his teeth, earnestly hoping the drudge refused to drink. It would be such a tragedy to waste the expensive wine on her uncultured palette, though he doubted her tolerance was considerable enough to drain the bottle. "I'm Warkhim," he added with a smile.
