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!
22.May.12, 10:09 AM
Indivara didn't bother to look and see if Lymsleia was going to come in. What the woman did was up to her, and it wasn't so much that Indivara didn't care about Lymsleia, so much as Indivara didn't really care much for anyone but herself. Always looking out for number one, and Indivara was unquestionably her own number one. The attitude was further boosted by her preteen attitude that she was top shit, and well, everyone else was not. Instead, the child gently accepted the item Belamie offered to her, taking the spoon into delicate fingers, which (for once) were clean. Likely the early hour, and the extended bath under taken the night before. They wouldn't be clean within a few hours.
The child wasn't really one to understand the inner workings of the craft the woman before her was a part of, or have much interest in it, if she were honest. Indivara didn't have much interest in any craft, as dragons controlled her every thought and desire. She couldn't comprehend a world where dragons didn't exist, or where someone wouldn't want to Impress them. They were, after all, the embodiment of all that was amazing in the world they claimed as their own. Why wouldn't someone want to be bonded to such an amazing creature? (of course, then there were dragons like Grith that were about as bright as a wet lump of wood, or Larrikith, who were far too clever for their own good. But Indivara liked to ignore the extremes.) Dragons were everything the child dreamed of, and everything she would one day truly be a part of. It was just a matter of time.
Preferably a short time!
"It's lovely." It was more a statement of fact than a coo of delight, as the girl fingered the wood almost absently, thinking over the crafter's agreement and statement. Of course she would need to know what the child wanted, but Indivara wasn't entirely sure how to describe it. To her, it was just a silly little box with a lot of carving in the side that her mother was childishly attracted to. She didn't see the reason for it, herself, and figured it was liable to simply gather a whole lot of dust. Waste of time, waste of space, waste of effort. But - it would win a favour out of her mother (as yet still undetermined by the sly little girl) but one she was sure she could use. Eventually.
"Mother has taken a fancy to a small box, about yay big," she held her hands up, gripping the spoon delicately between her last two fingers and her palm as she used her hands to indicate a rough size. "A hollowed out box, with a lid that sits on top. It is carved with a scene, from the North I think? Perhaps that is why Mother likes it so much. But I thought she might like one of her own." No need to tell the woman she had a plan to reap the rewards eventually. She didn't really care what Belamie thought, or even what her mother would think (A'din wouldn't be surprised at all) but rather she was worried about Par'a finding out. That woman could be dangerous when she wanted to be, in the same way Indivara supposed she could be dangerous.
Knowledge was a weapon, and Par'a had a lot more practice at wielding it, even if she did seem like a scatter brained, sex addicted greenrider! Indivara had spent enough time around her baby sitter to not trust her as far as she could throw her - not when it came to pieces of information.
The child wasn't really one to understand the inner workings of the craft the woman before her was a part of, or have much interest in it, if she were honest. Indivara didn't have much interest in any craft, as dragons controlled her every thought and desire. She couldn't comprehend a world where dragons didn't exist, or where someone wouldn't want to Impress them. They were, after all, the embodiment of all that was amazing in the world they claimed as their own. Why wouldn't someone want to be bonded to such an amazing creature? (of course, then there were dragons like Grith that were about as bright as a wet lump of wood, or Larrikith, who were far too clever for their own good. But Indivara liked to ignore the extremes.) Dragons were everything the child dreamed of, and everything she would one day truly be a part of. It was just a matter of time.
Preferably a short time!
"It's lovely." It was more a statement of fact than a coo of delight, as the girl fingered the wood almost absently, thinking over the crafter's agreement and statement. Of course she would need to know what the child wanted, but Indivara wasn't entirely sure how to describe it. To her, it was just a silly little box with a lot of carving in the side that her mother was childishly attracted to. She didn't see the reason for it, herself, and figured it was liable to simply gather a whole lot of dust. Waste of time, waste of space, waste of effort. But - it would win a favour out of her mother (as yet still undetermined by the sly little girl) but one she was sure she could use. Eventually.
"Mother has taken a fancy to a small box, about yay big," she held her hands up, gripping the spoon delicately between her last two fingers and her palm as she used her hands to indicate a rough size. "A hollowed out box, with a lid that sits on top. It is carved with a scene, from the North I think? Perhaps that is why Mother likes it so much. But I thought she might like one of her own." No need to tell the woman she had a plan to reap the rewards eventually. She didn't really care what Belamie thought, or even what her mother would think (A'din wouldn't be surprised at all) but rather she was worried about Par'a finding out. That woman could be dangerous when she wanted to be, in the same way Indivara supposed she could be dangerous.
Knowledge was a weapon, and Par'a had a lot more practice at wielding it, even if she did seem like a scatter brained, sex addicted greenrider! Indivara had spent enough time around her baby sitter to not trust her as far as she could throw her - not when it came to pieces of information.
