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!
03.Mar.12, 07:28 PM
Breccan watched idly as Lym started the tea, her mind wandering freely. Not much information had been forthcoming from her fellow Healer so far, but she was content to wait, allowing her brain to form tenuous associations between facts, begin to grasp at new ideas. She suspected Lym knew quite a bit about the Weyr, and would be happy to tell her, if only she knew which questions to ask. That was a fairly daunting task, and she let her mind approach it cautiously, producing half-formed questions and sorting through them.
The scent of the steeping leaves was no great surprise; relaxing seemed to be the most obvious path to take. The blend itself had a few unfamiliar smells, which Breccan patiently catalogued and resolved to ask about later. They were likely Southern plants, varietals she had never encountered or entirely new species. That was really the only saving grace for having come here. Breccan hungered for new information the way most craved sustenance or company, and often placed that need higher on her priority list than some that were arguably more crucial. Eating, for instance. To her, the South was a banquet placed in front of a starving man. It was difficult, in some ways, for her to remain so adamantly opposed to living her days out here. In others, though, it was not.
A new reason was asserting itself as Lymsleia elaborated about the edict. The absolute anger that swept through her shocked even her in its intensity, narrowing her eyes. Her inability to keep still vaulted her to her feet and set them to pacing. It would be rude to speak just now, while the other healer was still finishing, but Breccan had her hands full just with the task of keeping her lips closed around the hard words that wanted out. Lymsleia's admission that she did not care to return north brought with it the pause she needed to burst out, and she took the opportunity with violent relief.
"You would not return even now? Are you so content to be made a broodmare to some...some dragonrider's spawn?" she spat the words. Fury was contained in every expressive line of her body and face; she couldn't have prevented that if she'd tried. "I was not brought down here to breed," she insisted, as if saying the words would make it true, "I was brought to stand, and I will." Her hands were fists; she hardly noticed as her nails bit into her palms. Nevermind that she hadn't wanted to stand in the first place, and still didn't. The fact that someone was now claiming she couldn't changed everything. If she were to stay here, Riding was her only chance at rank, at any type of control over her own life. Candidates were not exactly respected, valued members of the community. In time, perhaps, she might come to be appreciated for her healing talents, but they hardly needed her when they already had Talian. Perhaps his specialty was different, but he doubtless knew enough of plants to render her unnecessary. If she was not needed for healing, and if she would not push out squalling children upon some man's command, then she would have to be a dragonrider. At the very least, they could take a quick trip between to dislodge any new life swelling their bellies. More importantly, they had a say in things. They would be heard.
Between, though, was not the only option for a woman who had been kindled. Lymsleia could help with this small rebellion. "Could you spread word quietly among women? I mean, are there enough women here you trust?" she asked quietly. If the news spread to men, or specifically, to whoever had authorized the edict, the ramifications would be dramatic, likely for both her and Lym. "We could be...instrumental in removing the power of the edict, we two. I know enough contraceptives and abortives, and you know women and pregnancy." She fell silent, allowing the other girl to draw her own conclusions.
Having a plan was calming. Being able to do something against an order so clearly unethical was better. She returned to her seat, brushing hair back to its place behind her shoulders. She poured a cup of tea and set it alongside her, the picture of sudden serenity. She had only to see what Lym thought of the idea, and then, perhaps, to recruit Talian. Abortives were dangerous, and might require the skills of someone trained in emergency care. It occurred to her that she was threatening all of them in this, but once the idea was there, she would not deny it its hold in her mind. Perhaps her motives were not as pure as Lym's would undoubtedly be, but she would do what it took to regain some measure of control over her life. She would certainly not get pregnant, at the very least. And then, she would find some way to stand.
The scent of the steeping leaves was no great surprise; relaxing seemed to be the most obvious path to take. The blend itself had a few unfamiliar smells, which Breccan patiently catalogued and resolved to ask about later. They were likely Southern plants, varietals she had never encountered or entirely new species. That was really the only saving grace for having come here. Breccan hungered for new information the way most craved sustenance or company, and often placed that need higher on her priority list than some that were arguably more crucial. Eating, for instance. To her, the South was a banquet placed in front of a starving man. It was difficult, in some ways, for her to remain so adamantly opposed to living her days out here. In others, though, it was not.
A new reason was asserting itself as Lymsleia elaborated about the edict. The absolute anger that swept through her shocked even her in its intensity, narrowing her eyes. Her inability to keep still vaulted her to her feet and set them to pacing. It would be rude to speak just now, while the other healer was still finishing, but Breccan had her hands full just with the task of keeping her lips closed around the hard words that wanted out. Lymsleia's admission that she did not care to return north brought with it the pause she needed to burst out, and she took the opportunity with violent relief.
"You would not return even now? Are you so content to be made a broodmare to some...some dragonrider's spawn?" she spat the words. Fury was contained in every expressive line of her body and face; she couldn't have prevented that if she'd tried. "I was not brought down here to breed," she insisted, as if saying the words would make it true, "I was brought to stand, and I will." Her hands were fists; she hardly noticed as her nails bit into her palms. Nevermind that she hadn't wanted to stand in the first place, and still didn't. The fact that someone was now claiming she couldn't changed everything. If she were to stay here, Riding was her only chance at rank, at any type of control over her own life. Candidates were not exactly respected, valued members of the community. In time, perhaps, she might come to be appreciated for her healing talents, but they hardly needed her when they already had Talian. Perhaps his specialty was different, but he doubtless knew enough of plants to render her unnecessary. If she was not needed for healing, and if she would not push out squalling children upon some man's command, then she would have to be a dragonrider. At the very least, they could take a quick trip between to dislodge any new life swelling their bellies. More importantly, they had a say in things. They would be heard.
Between, though, was not the only option for a woman who had been kindled. Lymsleia could help with this small rebellion. "Could you spread word quietly among women? I mean, are there enough women here you trust?" she asked quietly. If the news spread to men, or specifically, to whoever had authorized the edict, the ramifications would be dramatic, likely for both her and Lym. "We could be...instrumental in removing the power of the edict, we two. I know enough contraceptives and abortives, and you know women and pregnancy." She fell silent, allowing the other girl to draw her own conclusions.
Having a plan was calming. Being able to do something against an order so clearly unethical was better. She returned to her seat, brushing hair back to its place behind her shoulders. She poured a cup of tea and set it alongside her, the picture of sudden serenity. She had only to see what Lym thought of the idea, and then, perhaps, to recruit Talian. Abortives were dangerous, and might require the skills of someone trained in emergency care. It occurred to her that she was threatening all of them in this, but once the idea was there, she would not deny it its hold in her mind. Perhaps her motives were not as pure as Lym's would undoubtedly be, but she would do what it took to regain some measure of control over her life. She would certainly not get pregnant, at the very least. And then, she would find some way to stand.
