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.Feb.14, 09:58 PM
Peorray took a while to answer R'nya. "I-" She began, then stalled- caught between a mother's responsibility and a rider's. She'd never been very fond of rides on strange dragons (though, they'd all been strange when she'd first formed that opinion). But the real question here was Wydrith, and all of them knew it.
Not least the dragon herself. Wydrith tensed when Peorray glanced back at her, knowing it would be best for her rider if she could make herself let the woman go. And the gold had been doing alright so far, throughout the toil and terror of the day, with Peorray by her side. Wydrith thought about the terrible feeling of loss on the air, the continual keening as a rider or dragon lost the fight for survival, the frantic chaos of the landslide- and what if it happened again? If something went wrong and Peorray wasn't here and never came back-?
Peorray's thoughts settled at the dragon's full-body shudder, accepting the decision that had been made for her. She couldn't risk her live dragon spooking Between or something for the sake of her already-dead son. It would just kill her -if the rest of the Weyr didn't get her first for losing one of their still-needed golds. "I can't." She told the bronzerider with regretful finality. "I trust you to take care of him for me."
Peorray lay a hand on the blanket-wrapped body, careful not to undo R'nya's painstaking work, while she silently said whatever last goodbye she needed to. She then retreated to press her back against her dragon's chest and forelegs, watching R'nya and his dragon with all the grim resignation of one steeling herself to bear witness to something dreaded but necessary. Hopefully, the contact would soothe them both.
I'm sorry. Wydrith creeled apologetically to her rider. But she just knew with terrified certainty that something bad would happen if Peorray went Between without her, out of her sight. I wish I was different. Mizeath and Okalinath would have let their riders go. The gold speculated miserably, in her familiar, gravelly tones. It was another thing that Wydrith would change if she could, but Peorray dearly loved that voice that others rarely heard.
If you were different, you wouldn't be my partner. Peorray pointed out, logically. And we're not perfect, love, either one. But we fit. Even if they would have to figure out how they'd fit with an important piece of their life missing from now on.
Not least the dragon herself. Wydrith tensed when Peorray glanced back at her, knowing it would be best for her rider if she could make herself let the woman go. And the gold had been doing alright so far, throughout the toil and terror of the day, with Peorray by her side. Wydrith thought about the terrible feeling of loss on the air, the continual keening as a rider or dragon lost the fight for survival, the frantic chaos of the landslide- and what if it happened again? If something went wrong and Peorray wasn't here and never came back-?
Peorray's thoughts settled at the dragon's full-body shudder, accepting the decision that had been made for her. She couldn't risk her live dragon spooking Between or something for the sake of her already-dead son. It would just kill her -if the rest of the Weyr didn't get her first for losing one of their still-needed golds. "I can't." She told the bronzerider with regretful finality. "I trust you to take care of him for me."
Peorray lay a hand on the blanket-wrapped body, careful not to undo R'nya's painstaking work, while she silently said whatever last goodbye she needed to. She then retreated to press her back against her dragon's chest and forelegs, watching R'nya and his dragon with all the grim resignation of one steeling herself to bear witness to something dreaded but necessary. Hopefully, the contact would soothe them both.
If you were different, you wouldn't be my partner. Peorray pointed out, logically. And we're not perfect, love, either one. But we fit. Even if they would have to figure out how they'd fit with an important piece of their life missing from now on.
