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!
21.Jul.13, 03:36 AM
Turning to the young woman next to him, V'riy noticed she had backed up a few feet, and the barest indication of a frown formed his lips. Did he know this one? She looked.. rather new, but familiar. He always went to such great lengths to be amiable to the residents of Katila Weyr. Excepting weyrbrats and D'ren's crew, he tried to get along with nearly everyone.
Why then, did she back away? He ran his fingers through his hair quickly, and unobtrusively smelled his shirt while she spoke to Quenym about the possibility of a new variety of pie. No, he smelled as clean as he always did, and experienced a brief bout of irritation for her making him feel the need to check. Ridiculous. Pushing it away, he assumed the smooth expression that was his bronzerider "face".
Can't you hurry it up and just grab what you need, so that we can go? I'm eager to be off today. You're wasting your time with these two, and being entirely too lenient with the boy. Where's his respect?
V'riy was appalled at Quenym's show of temper and disrespect, but remained unruffled, as always. Morith snorted at V'riy's reluctance to put the boy in his place, but V'riy didn't see any sense in scolding the boy. If he was this easily worked up, it wouldn't get him anywhere. Besides, he didn't want to come off as an overbearing ass in front of the young woman.
"Well, Quenym, first off, you're logic is wrong," he stated in a completely deadpan voice. "That light color is from flour being added to the drippings of the meat," he explained. "Drippings come from meat that has already been cooked. But since you already know what you're doing, I'll leave you to it. As I said, I'm no expert."
The bronze rider shrugged his shoulders at the boy. This one should get a hold of his emotions, V'riy thought. Morith was right about his lack of respect and self-control. It wouldn't do for the child to be losing his head over something as simple as a few words. He could use a bit of toughening up, and a bit of guidance. V'riy pondered who to speak to about this young Quenym.
Exploring, too? V'riy wasn't going to comment that the boy would be unable to take care of himself if he didn't know the first thing about cooking something as simple as gravy. The boy was seriously lacking in common sense. Who was responsible for him?
V'riy turned swiftly and walked over to the left-over table. He picked up his leather shoulder bag, setting it on a bench, and opened the flap. Glancing at the table, he grabbed several meat pies and wrapped them before placing them neatly inside the container, along with a some pieces of fresh fruit. He wasn't sure how long he'd be gone, and didn't plan on having to catch his own supper.
Without a word, swung the bag over his shoulder and walked to the doorway, nodding to Quenym and the girl. "Have a nice time cooking," he said, smiling politely. Wearing his game face, he made to exit the kitchen.
Why then, did she back away? He ran his fingers through his hair quickly, and unobtrusively smelled his shirt while she spoke to Quenym about the possibility of a new variety of pie. No, he smelled as clean as he always did, and experienced a brief bout of irritation for her making him feel the need to check. Ridiculous. Pushing it away, he assumed the smooth expression that was his bronzerider "face".
Can't you hurry it up and just grab what you need, so that we can go? I'm eager to be off today. You're wasting your time with these two, and being entirely too lenient with the boy. Where's his respect?
V'riy was appalled at Quenym's show of temper and disrespect, but remained unruffled, as always. Morith snorted at V'riy's reluctance to put the boy in his place, but V'riy didn't see any sense in scolding the boy. If he was this easily worked up, it wouldn't get him anywhere. Besides, he didn't want to come off as an overbearing ass in front of the young woman.
"Well, Quenym, first off, you're logic is wrong," he stated in a completely deadpan voice. "That light color is from flour being added to the drippings of the meat," he explained. "Drippings come from meat that has already been cooked. But since you already know what you're doing, I'll leave you to it. As I said, I'm no expert."
The bronze rider shrugged his shoulders at the boy. This one should get a hold of his emotions, V'riy thought. Morith was right about his lack of respect and self-control. It wouldn't do for the child to be losing his head over something as simple as a few words. He could use a bit of toughening up, and a bit of guidance. V'riy pondered who to speak to about this young Quenym.
Exploring, too? V'riy wasn't going to comment that the boy would be unable to take care of himself if he didn't know the first thing about cooking something as simple as gravy. The boy was seriously lacking in common sense. Who was responsible for him?
V'riy turned swiftly and walked over to the left-over table. He picked up his leather shoulder bag, setting it on a bench, and opened the flap. Glancing at the table, he grabbed several meat pies and wrapped them before placing them neatly inside the container, along with a some pieces of fresh fruit. He wasn't sure how long he'd be gone, and didn't plan on having to catch his own supper.
Without a word, swung the bag over his shoulder and walked to the doorway, nodding to Quenym and the girl. "Have a nice time cooking," he said, smiling politely. Wearing his game face, he made to exit the kitchen.
