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!
11.May.15, 08:50 AM
The crooked smile settled itself once more upon N’mor’s amused lips and he shook his head in exasperation at his friend and both their dragons, following T’ryn when he made his way over to the leathers. His left hand settled on his hip as he watched his friend. “The fact that you’re the only one other than I who has any idea how to make them is non-withstanding, of course.” Both eyebrows arched high over laughing eyes as N’mor took the piece of leather from T’ryn’s hands before he could put it completely on the ground, eyebrows furrowing thoughtfully as he considered it. It wasn’t as old as some of the other pieces (he could tell by the workmanship – the newer pieces were of better quality than the truly old piece) which meant that it was in a spot being rubbed at more than the rest of the straps. So it either needed refitting entirely across his dragon, or to be replaced much more regularly. Hopefully it was the former.
“These two are definitely on the same scale as crying children,” N’mor murmured, wandering over to Rhezalth and waving him to stand up so that he could check the area the piece of strap had been located. His frown deepened as he examined the area, noting calloused hide as he ran his fingers lightly, and then more firmly as he explored the damage, over bronze hide. “You should have told me this was rubbing, Rhez! You’ve ruined this area of your hide. What am I going to do with you?” There was a level of exasperation in his tone that was aimed more at himself. N’mor had struggled a lot with his dragon’s care, and used enthusiastic albeit undereducated weyrbrats to help him with washing and oiling the beast. Obviously it hadn’t all gone quite as smoothly as he’d hoped.
It doesn’t hurt, the dragon literally shrugged, but he did shift his position so that N’mor could see more easily, twisting his head to try and see the spot under his neck, but mostly failing and just getting in the way. “Regardless,” N’mor stepped back and allowed Rhezalth to settle down more comfortably, “we’re going to have to redesign that part. Or at least get a better fitting strap. I’m not sure where it screwed up..?” His tone was questioning, eyebrows arching up at T’ryn to see if he had an opinion on it; he was quite sure his friend would.
“I don’t think it will take much to repair the hide; it seems to be fairly cosmetic. Do you think we have some leather somewhere so we can remake that bit before we go hunting tomorrow?” There was no point in making his dragon more uncomfortable now he was aware of it. His lips twisted, a lopsided smirk appearing. “We could always thieve from the Weyrling class.” His eyes sparkled as he lowered his voice dramatically – it would be just like oen of their fathers to suddenly appear (quite literally) out of between, hear, and spend an hour scolding them. Well, he amended. His father – R’nd was too scared of them.
Rhezalth rumbled with amusement, ever entertained by the bluerider’s discomfort by his own flesh and blood, and that of his lover.
“These two are definitely on the same scale as crying children,” N’mor murmured, wandering over to Rhezalth and waving him to stand up so that he could check the area the piece of strap had been located. His frown deepened as he examined the area, noting calloused hide as he ran his fingers lightly, and then more firmly as he explored the damage, over bronze hide. “You should have told me this was rubbing, Rhez! You’ve ruined this area of your hide. What am I going to do with you?” There was a level of exasperation in his tone that was aimed more at himself. N’mor had struggled a lot with his dragon’s care, and used enthusiastic albeit undereducated weyrbrats to help him with washing and oiling the beast. Obviously it hadn’t all gone quite as smoothly as he’d hoped.
“I don’t think it will take much to repair the hide; it seems to be fairly cosmetic. Do you think we have some leather somewhere so we can remake that bit before we go hunting tomorrow?” There was no point in making his dragon more uncomfortable now he was aware of it. His lips twisted, a lopsided smirk appearing. “We could always thieve from the Weyrling class.” His eyes sparkled as he lowered his voice dramatically – it would be just like oen of their fathers to suddenly appear (quite literally) out of between, hear, and spend an hour scolding them. Well, he amended. His father – R’nd was too scared of them.
Rhezalth rumbled with amusement, ever entertained by the bluerider’s discomfort by his own flesh and blood, and that of his lover.
