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!
06.Dec.13, 06:23 AM
B’jin stirred into wakefulness as the sound of keening once more filled the air, and his blood ran cold even as he struggled into a sitting position; his mind immediately reaching for Larrikith while his eyes sought out Rhezalth. The little bronze was very much asleep on the end of Indamor’s bed, a back leg flopped over the edge, and the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing reassuring the greenrider. It wasn’t one of ours. Larrikith reassured him, before informing him on who it had been. B’jin frowned, saddened as he recalled the green. Shaking himself a little, the greenrider tore his mind from another lost life, trying to find something else to focus on.
The throbbing pain of a headache, and the lingering sting on his left bicep almost immediately captured his attention; a glance informed the greenrider of a long, deep slice that had been tended and wrapped, obviously by Talian. He flexed his arm, features grimacing as he realised there were stitches holding the wound closed. Fantastic, more scars.At least you still have your arm, the green’s tone was mournful and B’jin’s expression fell into one of deep sorrow as he turned his gaze on the fitfully sleeping form of his son.
Not even Talian’s superior skills had been able to put together the mashed bones in Indamor’s arm, and he had had to amputate it from about a hand’s width down from the shoulder. It was a massive array of padding, now, and the air in the immediate area was thick with the scent of numbweed. B’jin knew Indamor was well and truly out of it on fellis juice, and he’d remain that way for as long as possible; the greenrider was both concerned and impressed with how well the little bronze had handled things.He’s N’mor’s, Larrikith’s voice was amused but pointed, clearly stating ‘what other type of dragon would Impress to the serious and determined boy?’ B’jin smiled wanly, reaching out gently to pat the bronze dragonet.
“How are the others?” B’jin yawned, rising stiffly. He had collected together his class – or what was left of it – in the early afternoon; he’d lost six, in total. Such a waste, to lose such promising potential.It could have been a lot worse, love. So much worse.
“I know,” B’jin sighed, grimacing partly from the thought, and partly from the pain of lifting his injured arm. He lowered it, using his right to brush his hair off his face, and brushing over his cheek. He could feel the mud that was caked on it. So dirty, everyone was, the entire Weyr was in shambles. Daylight had not revealed anything pretty, and B’jin – like many others – had spent the day trying to dig up survivors.
A new skill for the Search worthy dragons - searching out the trapped souls in the mud, before both individuals and groups of dragons had set about digging them up. So many were injured beyond repair, and many seemed to die so close to being rescued. B’jin had – thankfully – lost count of the number of individuals he had had Larrikith drop between, and he didn’t envy the large dragons who had become responsible for depositing the bodies of deceased dragons between when they never made it. A bonus of Larrikith’s small size, surely!
Ayyonth! B’jin, so on edge, took too many heartbeats to realise Larrikith spoke her mate’s name with loving relief, and not fear, brown eyes wide and terrified for those few moments before R’nd walked into the room. B’jin bit his bottom lip, staring at his poor, abused looking lover. So dirty and covered in mud and blood (that had better not be his!) and grime and B’jin strode swiftly across the room, throwing his arms around R’nd and hugging him tightly.
He had mostly only managed to catch glances of his lover throughout the day, and Larrikith had reassured him with every death that R’nd and Ayyonth were not the pair in question. He had desperately wanted to run away and hide, to wait out the terror hidden away as far from the Weyr as he could get; to spend it wrapped up safely with R’nd where nothing bad could happen. However, he could not abandon his class, his son, the people of the Weyr he had helped save.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” the words were begging, soft and desperate as he leaned back to look at R’nd’s face, eyebrows furrowed into a worried frown as he carefully brushed at a muddy streak on the bluerider’s cheek. Brown eyes searched grey, making sure R’nd truly was okay and he wasn’t putting on a show for B’jin’s benefit.
The throbbing pain of a headache, and the lingering sting on his left bicep almost immediately captured his attention; a glance informed the greenrider of a long, deep slice that had been tended and wrapped, obviously by Talian. He flexed his arm, features grimacing as he realised there were stitches holding the wound closed. Fantastic, more scars.
Not even Talian’s superior skills had been able to put together the mashed bones in Indamor’s arm, and he had had to amputate it from about a hand’s width down from the shoulder. It was a massive array of padding, now, and the air in the immediate area was thick with the scent of numbweed. B’jin knew Indamor was well and truly out of it on fellis juice, and he’d remain that way for as long as possible; the greenrider was both concerned and impressed with how well the little bronze had handled things.
“How are the others?” B’jin yawned, rising stiffly. He had collected together his class – or what was left of it – in the early afternoon; he’d lost six, in total. Such a waste, to lose such promising potential.
“I know,” B’jin sighed, grimacing partly from the thought, and partly from the pain of lifting his injured arm. He lowered it, using his right to brush his hair off his face, and brushing over his cheek. He could feel the mud that was caked on it. So dirty, everyone was, the entire Weyr was in shambles. Daylight had not revealed anything pretty, and B’jin – like many others – had spent the day trying to dig up survivors.
A new skill for the Search worthy dragons - searching out the trapped souls in the mud, before both individuals and groups of dragons had set about digging them up. So many were injured beyond repair, and many seemed to die so close to being rescued. B’jin had – thankfully – lost count of the number of individuals he had had Larrikith drop between, and he didn’t envy the large dragons who had become responsible for depositing the bodies of deceased dragons between when they never made it. A bonus of Larrikith’s small size, surely!
He had mostly only managed to catch glances of his lover throughout the day, and Larrikith had reassured him with every death that R’nd and Ayyonth were not the pair in question. He had desperately wanted to run away and hide, to wait out the terror hidden away as far from the Weyr as he could get; to spend it wrapped up safely with R’nd where nothing bad could happen. However, he could not abandon his class, his son, the people of the Weyr he had helped save.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” the words were begging, soft and desperate as he leaned back to look at R’nd’s face, eyebrows furrowed into a worried frown as he carefully brushed at a muddy streak on the bluerider’s cheek. Brown eyes searched grey, making sure R’nd truly was okay and he wasn’t putting on a show for B’jin’s benefit.
