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!
24.Feb.12, 03:58 PM
Breccan shook her head she worked. "Not a lot. At least nothing personal. Just plenty about what a shooting star you are," she answered, sounding amused. The way his face fell; that was strange. What did he have to be upset about? True, perhaps being constantly recognized got old, but she couldn't imagine being unhappy about her accomplishments, at least not in the way he seemed to be. He seemed almost fragile in a way. She resolved to avoid the topic of his alarming rise through the ranks until she knew him better. He didn't seem eager to discuss it, but fortunately, Breccan relished a challenge. The gentle teasing he didn't seem to mind, so she chose to stick with that. For now.
She felt a sort of tightness as he examined his hand, the sort of eager-to-please nonsense she'd always felt around her Masters. She knew it was a good job, but she, well, wanted to hear that from someone else. The approving look in his eye made her heart leap. Breccan was wildly self-sufficient in so many ways, but nothing would put her in good spirits quite like being told she was doing well. His comment on arrogance half-baffled her -why wouldn't you be arrogant when you had so much to boast about?- but she set it aside. Breccan was regularly bored by the way other Healers viewed their careers as some sort of sacred, altruistic calling. She did not heal because it was 'the right thing to do' or because she liked to 'put others first.' She was a healer because she had the skill for it, and because she did take real pleasure in setting things right. Watching someone's body all but mend itself under her care was the most sacred thing she knew; helping it along was all she really did.
"Thank you," she answered, feeling the usual warm flush of pleasure at the sound of praise, "I'm an herbologist, I suppose you would say. The active principles in plantlife are fascinating. Being here has that going for it, anyway. I've found some varieties that don't seem to exist up North, and a few interesting strains of well-known plants. At least it's something to focus on." She shrugged one shoulder upwards, attention dragged towards the door, where a girl was coming in with a handful of clothing. She rummaged through her motley collection, obviously not all hers, and offered some advice.
Breccan was quick to take it, pulling out a pair of pants and a torn shirt from the pile. Fixing ripped clothing couldn't be so different from stitching flesh. In the last few minutes, her mood had improved immeasurably. This she knew how to do, and she'd established at least an acquaintance-ship with Talian. Perhaps he'd even stick around, though it looked like he was finished with his own chore. The girl offered some interesting information on why they were here, mending clothing, and Breccan was fascinated by both the mechanism and Talian's cool reaction. He clearly disapproved of how they were treated.
The entrance of another woman caught her attention, but not for long. A loud squealing was coming from just outside the windows, and with a shock, Breccan realized there was a dragon, right there. Occasional glimpses of a bright hide revealed the dragon as Green, and Breccan was astonished by her sheer size. Weren't Greens the smallest? How on Pern did anyone manage to get on a Brown, or for that matter, a Gold? She'd been quite unconscious for most of her kidnapping, barring a moment of consciousness in which she'd volunteered the information that she'd jump from her captor's back. She had no recollection of the dragon's size, and while she'd gotten a ride from one from the Candidate Isle to Katila proper, somehow she'd just never noticed how big they were.
Her intended comments about the Weyr's control tactics died in her throat with the appearance of a dragonrider. She probably liked how things went. Accepting the cheerful woman's offered hand, Breccan automatically smiled and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Par'a. Is Grith...friendly? I haven't really met a dragon," she said, peering out the window at the enthusiastic Green. What would it be like to be bonded to something that energetic? Probably exhausting. Then again, looking at the older woman's cheerful face, maybe they were a fair match.
The very idea that Grith might just invite herself in was a little horrifying. Breccan was curious about the things, sure, but she didn't know if she wanted one barging right over to her. She wasn't afraid of course. Just cautious. It occurred to her that she hadn't properly introduced herself, so she turned to include Indivara, just as curious about someone who had obviously been born here. "I'm Breccan," she supplied, "From Healer Hall." Did that even mean anything to these people? Certainly not to the little girl, who'd never been North, unless they were stealing babies from their cribs as well. Par'a...was she from the North, stolen turns and turns ago and now content and Impressed? That would make her someone to get to know. It would be interesting to hear how she'd adjusted, and come to terms with leaving all she knew behind. Asking bluntly if Grith was worth it probably wouldn't go over well, but that was what Breccan really wanted to know. Why did no one try harder to leave?
She felt a sort of tightness as he examined his hand, the sort of eager-to-please nonsense she'd always felt around her Masters. She knew it was a good job, but she, well, wanted to hear that from someone else. The approving look in his eye made her heart leap. Breccan was wildly self-sufficient in so many ways, but nothing would put her in good spirits quite like being told she was doing well. His comment on arrogance half-baffled her -why wouldn't you be arrogant when you had so much to boast about?- but she set it aside. Breccan was regularly bored by the way other Healers viewed their careers as some sort of sacred, altruistic calling. She did not heal because it was 'the right thing to do' or because she liked to 'put others first.' She was a healer because she had the skill for it, and because she did take real pleasure in setting things right. Watching someone's body all but mend itself under her care was the most sacred thing she knew; helping it along was all she really did.
"Thank you," she answered, feeling the usual warm flush of pleasure at the sound of praise, "I'm an herbologist, I suppose you would say. The active principles in plantlife are fascinating. Being here has that going for it, anyway. I've found some varieties that don't seem to exist up North, and a few interesting strains of well-known plants. At least it's something to focus on." She shrugged one shoulder upwards, attention dragged towards the door, where a girl was coming in with a handful of clothing. She rummaged through her motley collection, obviously not all hers, and offered some advice.
Breccan was quick to take it, pulling out a pair of pants and a torn shirt from the pile. Fixing ripped clothing couldn't be so different from stitching flesh. In the last few minutes, her mood had improved immeasurably. This she knew how to do, and she'd established at least an acquaintance-ship with Talian. Perhaps he'd even stick around, though it looked like he was finished with his own chore. The girl offered some interesting information on why they were here, mending clothing, and Breccan was fascinated by both the mechanism and Talian's cool reaction. He clearly disapproved of how they were treated.
The entrance of another woman caught her attention, but not for long. A loud squealing was coming from just outside the windows, and with a shock, Breccan realized there was a dragon, right there. Occasional glimpses of a bright hide revealed the dragon as Green, and Breccan was astonished by her sheer size. Weren't Greens the smallest? How on Pern did anyone manage to get on a Brown, or for that matter, a Gold? She'd been quite unconscious for most of her kidnapping, barring a moment of consciousness in which she'd volunteered the information that she'd jump from her captor's back. She had no recollection of the dragon's size, and while she'd gotten a ride from one from the Candidate Isle to Katila proper, somehow she'd just never noticed how big they were.
Her intended comments about the Weyr's control tactics died in her throat with the appearance of a dragonrider. She probably liked how things went. Accepting the cheerful woman's offered hand, Breccan automatically smiled and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Par'a. Is Grith...friendly? I haven't really met a dragon," she said, peering out the window at the enthusiastic Green. What would it be like to be bonded to something that energetic? Probably exhausting. Then again, looking at the older woman's cheerful face, maybe they were a fair match.
The very idea that Grith might just invite herself in was a little horrifying. Breccan was curious about the things, sure, but she didn't know if she wanted one barging right over to her. She wasn't afraid of course. Just cautious. It occurred to her that she hadn't properly introduced herself, so she turned to include Indivara, just as curious about someone who had obviously been born here. "I'm Breccan," she supplied, "From Healer Hall." Did that even mean anything to these people? Certainly not to the little girl, who'd never been North, unless they were stealing babies from their cribs as well. Par'a...was she from the North, stolen turns and turns ago and now content and Impressed? That would make her someone to get to know. It would be interesting to hear how she'd adjusted, and come to terms with leaving all she knew behind. Asking bluntly if Grith was worth it probably wouldn't go over well, but that was what Breccan really wanted to know. Why did no one try harder to leave?
