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!
08.Jan.14, 05:12 PM
S'cer frowned down at the trousers than lay in his lap; they were brown and faded, patched in the knees, but they were all he had. He worked methodically, like he did with most things, stitching the seam back together. He had tried his hardest to not think about the landslide, to think about R'hai and the horrible fact that Quelseth had witnessed it. He hoped that she would forget, and he would try his hardest to forget as well; the hope of returning home was finally being realized, and he tried to think about that, about his brothers and parents. Were they married with children of their own? What would they think when he appeared back from the dead?
He was a realist by nature, but S'cer had never stopped being hopeful about going home. He had thought that everything would end when he Impressed, but life had gone on. If anything, he was grateful for Quelseth--how could he resent her for needing him? He wasn't entirely selfish, and all it had taken was one look at her, pitiful and weak, and that was all. But he still longed for home, for the security it meant, even if it was uncertain if any of his family were alive. Farming was enough to break a man, and no one in his family tended to live very long due to the long hours of toil trying to scratch out a living.
He tried not to think about that, about death, afraid that it would frighten Quelseth. As usual, he thought of her first with little thought for himself.
Quelseth snorted, quietly, at that thought but otherwise didn't say anything. She was still sulking, unhappy about being yelled at. Sometimes it was so difficult, to be angry with her, but he was a grown man. He knew what he could and couldn't do!
There was a second, prissier snort, and S'cer's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you laughing at me?"
Mizeath and Ameris are approaching!
At least they'll get her mind off of being angry at me, S'cer thought, a rueful smile settling in place. He didn't like it when Quelseth was angry; it did make him feel like a crack-brained wherry, most days.
The tiny green got up, flaring her wings out and then settling them again, tail wrapping daintily around her front forepaws. For her diminutive size, Quelseth was exquisitely proportioned, with a graceful bearing. She regarded Mizeath with a look of shy curiosity; though they were in the same weyrling class, the green was rather shy and hesitant to speak with others, especially with a gold. What if Mizeath thought she wasn't worth her time?
She would do well to have you as a friend, Quelseth, S'cer chided, tossing a fond smile Quelseth's way.
"Do I look especially busy?" He shot a longing look in the direction of the construction before grinning up at the goldrider. S'cer had never been the sort to sit around and do absolutely nothing, and would never be one to take leisure time well. He sat the sewing aside, moving aside on the tattered blanket he had spread out on the ground. "Sit, please. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
His appraisal was frank, but not unkind. S'cer was notoriously blunt, and saw little use for small talk and other niceties. It wasn't often that a goldrider appeared at his tent, and he was curious.
He was a realist by nature, but S'cer had never stopped being hopeful about going home. He had thought that everything would end when he Impressed, but life had gone on. If anything, he was grateful for Quelseth--how could he resent her for needing him? He wasn't entirely selfish, and all it had taken was one look at her, pitiful and weak, and that was all. But he still longed for home, for the security it meant, even if it was uncertain if any of his family were alive. Farming was enough to break a man, and no one in his family tended to live very long due to the long hours of toil trying to scratch out a living.
He tried not to think about that, about death, afraid that it would frighten Quelseth. As usual, he thought of her first with little thought for himself.
Quelseth snorted, quietly, at that thought but otherwise didn't say anything. She was still sulking, unhappy about being yelled at. Sometimes it was so difficult, to be angry with her, but he was a grown man. He knew what he could and couldn't do!
There was a second, prissier snort, and S'cer's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you laughing at me?"
At least they'll get her mind off of being angry at me, S'cer thought, a rueful smile settling in place. He didn't like it when Quelseth was angry; it did make him feel like a crack-brained wherry, most days.
The tiny green got up, flaring her wings out and then settling them again, tail wrapping daintily around her front forepaws. For her diminutive size, Quelseth was exquisitely proportioned, with a graceful bearing. She regarded Mizeath with a look of shy curiosity; though they were in the same weyrling class, the green was rather shy and hesitant to speak with others, especially with a gold. What if Mizeath thought she wasn't worth her time?
She would do well to have you as a friend, Quelseth, S'cer chided, tossing a fond smile Quelseth's way.
"Do I look especially busy?" He shot a longing look in the direction of the construction before grinning up at the goldrider. S'cer had never been the sort to sit around and do absolutely nothing, and would never be one to take leisure time well. He sat the sewing aside, moving aside on the tattered blanket he had spread out on the ground. "Sit, please. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
His appraisal was frank, but not unkind. S'cer was notoriously blunt, and saw little use for small talk and other niceties. It wasn't often that a goldrider appeared at his tent, and he was curious.
