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!
13.Jul.13, 06:48 AM
“Yes,” R’nya murmured softly, the word far more of a sad little sigh and he smiled thankfully at Rhaedalyn when the girl asked a question of him once more, relief sweeping through him. In part, because she had chosen to attack a subject that was not related to the ghost of the goldrider swimming through his mind, and the question she asked was focused on a memory he enjoyed reliving but rarely got a chance to do so. R’nya was not really one to offer up information about himself. Apparently, that lack of offered information had given the girls the impression that he was not someone to be asked questions of. In part, it was because she was not storming off on him, or angry with him, for the things he had done as a child. He was ashamed of that part of his history, but Etralla had set him right, and R’nya was not ashamed of that; he was proud of who he was, and would hate for Rhaedalyn (or any of his girls!) to be unhappy with him because of it.
Xyreith’s great head swung around at the sound of Aradissicath’s voice, eyes swirling with untold emotions as he stared at her in silence for several moments, contemplating. After a moment, he moved, but it was not where he had been intended to move to; the bronze had been planning to continue his pacing, despite her demands to stop. Instead, he found himself stepping quietly back over her (a small defiance, but one none the less!) and flopping back down in the hollow, not at all mindful of the dust he swept up and around her. She would be bathed the next day, anyway, right? What was a little dirt? Turning his gaze on the little gold, Xyreith snorted at the back of her head, before resting his chin on his legs with another dissatisfied rumble. Golds!
“Sorry, Muffin.” His words were sincere, but his gaze was locked on Rhaedalyn; he had said something that had caused the firelizard to appear so possessively, and while he was not quite sure what it was he might have done or said, he was not unwilling to apologise for upsetting the girl, even if the name he used was of the firelizard. He tugged his blanket a little closer around himself, then sat up and leaned forward, hands appearing to straighten Rhaedalyn’s back around her shoulders once more, after all her excited wriggling. He flashed her a small smile as he settled back down again, rewrapping himself as he did so.
Resting the side of his face against the backrest of the seat, R’nya studied Rhaedalyn absently as he considered how to answer her question. “No, I did not.” He gave an amused snort and raised his eyebrows at the girl. “There was a green, in the egg I thought was for me.” He tossed her a wink. “Thankfully, I was one to keep such ideas to myself, so no one but you knows that now.” He did not think he had ever shared that particular titbit with anyone before, though he was not overly surprised Rhaedalyn had wrangled it out of him that night. He had told her a lot already that he had never told anyone before – though, to be fair, much of what he had mentioned had been common knowledge at Fort. The events surrounding the Touching he had participated in for Xyreith were known only by himself, and by proxy, Xyreith.
“He was an odd egg,” R’nya started slowly, though his voice was thick with the impending amusement he always got from remembering, and hoped Rhaedalyn would see it as well. “Imagine…” He paused, considering what to use for his example. “Imagine Grith, on a sugar high after eating every bubbly pie the Weyr has ever produced, and then shoved into the smallest egg on the Sands.” Blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Then, Imagine Sugar-High-Grith in the most sour mood because every obnoxious weyrbrat in the Weyr wants to feel sorry for the itty-bitty-eggie.” The bronzerider’s eyes widened dramatically and he leaned forward slightly.
“It was like a thunderclap of emotions!” He shrank back again, eyes still wide. “I was terrified!” Laughter was thick in his voice, if not on his face, though it glittered in amused eyes. “Ask another!” Memories and swirling emotions aside, R’nya was enjoying Rhaedalyn’s questions. The girl was sweet, and the lack of malicious design behind her questions buoyed the bronzerider.
Xyreith’s great head swung around at the sound of Aradissicath’s voice, eyes swirling with untold emotions as he stared at her in silence for several moments, contemplating. After a moment, he moved, but it was not where he had been intended to move to; the bronze had been planning to continue his pacing, despite her demands to stop. Instead, he found himself stepping quietly back over her (a small defiance, but one none the less!) and flopping back down in the hollow, not at all mindful of the dust he swept up and around her. She would be bathed the next day, anyway, right? What was a little dirt? Turning his gaze on the little gold, Xyreith snorted at the back of her head, before resting his chin on his legs with another dissatisfied rumble. Golds!
“Sorry, Muffin.” His words were sincere, but his gaze was locked on Rhaedalyn; he had said something that had caused the firelizard to appear so possessively, and while he was not quite sure what it was he might have done or said, he was not unwilling to apologise for upsetting the girl, even if the name he used was of the firelizard. He tugged his blanket a little closer around himself, then sat up and leaned forward, hands appearing to straighten Rhaedalyn’s back around her shoulders once more, after all her excited wriggling. He flashed her a small smile as he settled back down again, rewrapping himself as he did so.
Resting the side of his face against the backrest of the seat, R’nya studied Rhaedalyn absently as he considered how to answer her question. “No, I did not.” He gave an amused snort and raised his eyebrows at the girl. “There was a green, in the egg I thought was for me.” He tossed her a wink. “Thankfully, I was one to keep such ideas to myself, so no one but you knows that now.” He did not think he had ever shared that particular titbit with anyone before, though he was not overly surprised Rhaedalyn had wrangled it out of him that night. He had told her a lot already that he had never told anyone before – though, to be fair, much of what he had mentioned had been common knowledge at Fort. The events surrounding the Touching he had participated in for Xyreith were known only by himself, and by proxy, Xyreith.
“He was an odd egg,” R’nya started slowly, though his voice was thick with the impending amusement he always got from remembering, and hoped Rhaedalyn would see it as well. “Imagine…” He paused, considering what to use for his example. “Imagine Grith, on a sugar high after eating every bubbly pie the Weyr has ever produced, and then shoved into the smallest egg on the Sands.” Blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Then, Imagine Sugar-High-Grith in the most sour mood because every obnoxious weyrbrat in the Weyr wants to feel sorry for the itty-bitty-eggie.” The bronzerider’s eyes widened dramatically and he leaned forward slightly.
“It was like a thunderclap of emotions!” He shrank back again, eyes still wide. “I was terrified!” Laughter was thick in his voice, if not on his face, though it glittered in amused eyes. “Ask another!” Memories and swirling emotions aside, R’nya was enjoying Rhaedalyn’s questions. The girl was sweet, and the lack of malicious design behind her questions buoyed the bronzerider.
