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!
23.Feb.12, 07:31 PM
Breccan looked up quickly at the sound of someone's step, almost eager. As much as she disliked the prospect of someone seeing her doing something clumsily, the opportunity to learn how to do it properly balanced it well enough. She could swallow her pride and accept tutelage from someone more experienced. Well, most of the time.
Instead, a slightly-built young man came dangerously close to scuffing his way carelessly right through her little project. Grey eyes narrowed, she was ready with a sharp comment, but strangled it down. Happy to be here. She was happy to be here. In any case, he smiled and excused himself, showing more manners than anyone else had so far. Brec was mollified, more because she had to be than because of his polite remark, though it hadn't hurt. She watched with interest as he strode across the room, hoping he'd pull out a bolt to work on himself and do things correctly. Instead, he stowed the ax she'd failed to notice in a storage cupboard across the room. Probably not suited to making clothing then, if he was out cutting trees, though the leadership here certainly hadn't noticed what she was suited to.
He wiped his hand on his leg absently, making her wrinkle her nose unconsciously. He didn't look the type to be chopping down trees, and she was willing to wager he had or would have some nasty blisters. Move like that was liable to burst them, and that was hardly the proper thing to do for blisters. As he came towards her, she was all ready with a little solicitous blister-advice, but instead noticed the blood on his pants. Had that come from his hand?
Her hand caught the rolling bolt reflexively, and just as reflexively, the corners of her mouth tipped upwards in answer to his smile. "Oh no, but would you mind if I took a look at your hand? I'm a Healer...or was," she said, adding a touch of wry humor at the last. He didn't look like he was Southern born and bred, though she couldn't be sure. She didn't look much like an Istan for that matter. "I could at least bind it for you," she offered, indicating the bolts of fabric around the room, "Take your pick of styles." Her humor was a bit more bitter then, unintentionally. She was rising already, not waiting for an answer. Breccan's career choice might not have come from a generous desire to help others, but she disliked seeing a wound neglected. It upset something in her, perhaps something to do with her sense of perfection. Her own health was something she paid close attention to. It baffled her when others treated their bodies so callously, with little regard for physical concerns. No matter. She'd soon set things right.
One hand absently brushed dust from a slim knee as she strode towards him, fully expecting that he'd extend his hand for her inspection once her request processed. Beginning to lift her hands to accept the one he'd undoubtedly offer up, she stopped. Did he look familiar? This place! Every other boy looked half-familiar, like they were a part of her past she should have been aware of. Something about those unusual tawny eyes seemed...well, perhaps she'd never seen him before, but she'd heard of him? Oh, there was something. This niggling feeling in her brain was altogether unpleasant. Not only did it mean she was lacking answers, it also implied her memory was all but failing. She'd never had reason to reproach her memory before. Could she depend on nothing here?
"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere? Ista Hold perhaps, or around Fort?" she turned questioning eyes up to him, her half-lifted hands forgotten where their journey had been cut short, "You seem familiar. Somehow." A flicker of irritation at her mental failure darted across her features as swiftly as sunlight on water before she smoothed it away. When had she become so unreliable?
Instead, a slightly-built young man came dangerously close to scuffing his way carelessly right through her little project. Grey eyes narrowed, she was ready with a sharp comment, but strangled it down. Happy to be here. She was happy to be here. In any case, he smiled and excused himself, showing more manners than anyone else had so far. Brec was mollified, more because she had to be than because of his polite remark, though it hadn't hurt. She watched with interest as he strode across the room, hoping he'd pull out a bolt to work on himself and do things correctly. Instead, he stowed the ax she'd failed to notice in a storage cupboard across the room. Probably not suited to making clothing then, if he was out cutting trees, though the leadership here certainly hadn't noticed what she was suited to.
He wiped his hand on his leg absently, making her wrinkle her nose unconsciously. He didn't look the type to be chopping down trees, and she was willing to wager he had or would have some nasty blisters. Move like that was liable to burst them, and that was hardly the proper thing to do for blisters. As he came towards her, she was all ready with a little solicitous blister-advice, but instead noticed the blood on his pants. Had that come from his hand?
Her hand caught the rolling bolt reflexively, and just as reflexively, the corners of her mouth tipped upwards in answer to his smile. "Oh no, but would you mind if I took a look at your hand? I'm a Healer...or was," she said, adding a touch of wry humor at the last. He didn't look like he was Southern born and bred, though she couldn't be sure. She didn't look much like an Istan for that matter. "I could at least bind it for you," she offered, indicating the bolts of fabric around the room, "Take your pick of styles." Her humor was a bit more bitter then, unintentionally. She was rising already, not waiting for an answer. Breccan's career choice might not have come from a generous desire to help others, but she disliked seeing a wound neglected. It upset something in her, perhaps something to do with her sense of perfection. Her own health was something she paid close attention to. It baffled her when others treated their bodies so callously, with little regard for physical concerns. No matter. She'd soon set things right.
One hand absently brushed dust from a slim knee as she strode towards him, fully expecting that he'd extend his hand for her inspection once her request processed. Beginning to lift her hands to accept the one he'd undoubtedly offer up, she stopped. Did he look familiar? This place! Every other boy looked half-familiar, like they were a part of her past she should have been aware of. Something about those unusual tawny eyes seemed...well, perhaps she'd never seen him before, but she'd heard of him? Oh, there was something. This niggling feeling in her brain was altogether unpleasant. Not only did it mean she was lacking answers, it also implied her memory was all but failing. She'd never had reason to reproach her memory before. Could she depend on nothing here?
"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere? Ista Hold perhaps, or around Fort?" she turned questioning eyes up to him, her half-lifted hands forgotten where their journey had been cut short, "You seem familiar. Somehow." A flicker of irritation at her mental failure darted across her features as swiftly as sunlight on water before she smoothed it away. When had she become so unreliable?
