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!
31.Jan.12, 06:58 AM
"I don't want it," Talian said, his voice becoming curt for the first time. The truth was that he did, but he feared it would make him sick. His stomach roiled unpleasantly as he looked at it, ending with him physically pushing it away.
He looked back at B'jin, his eyes still filled with blame and discomfort. All of B'jin's work was undone, and more so with every passing moment. If the greenrider thought hostility would get him anywhere, he was wrong. Talian had already explained dozens of times that he didn't give a shard about dragons. It was hitting the point where he actually wished ill upon them.
He didn't know what to do about B'jin's hot-and-cold personality. He thought the rider's defense of the dragon was amazingly childish, though now he knew to expect such childishness out of every single one of the riders in the Weyr. It was just another reason not to speak to them. The boy's back stiffened, his body becoming more rigid along with his demeanor. He wasn't allowed to ask questions or criticize, and now he wasn't allowed to leave when he wanted. Unsure of what he was allowed to do, he just sat there, silent.
He sniffled suddenly as the lump in his throat reformed. "You're just LIKE the Master at the Hall, though," he commented. "...And you're just like Talerian, at least as far as I can see..." he said, hardly realizing the words has escaped them by the time they had. It was less accusing and more an observation. If B'jin was just like them, he'd have to be dealt with the same way; by letting him have his way. The only way to win was to refuse to play.
"What do I have to do to please you? You can't make me like your dragon or your Weyr. Do you want me to medicate myself for depression? Is that good enough?" he asked, his voice shaking again. That was one of the worst things in his mind: not knowing or understanding the expectations. If the damn dragonriders would leave him alone with a task, at least he could focus on completing it.
He sputtered again and looked away shamefully. He decided to stop and hold his tongue before going off on a tangent. It wouldn't solve anything. B'jin would evade his questions and continue pretending to be his friend, only likely to show his true colors if his subject stepped out of line again. To a pessimistic man like Talian, there was no way out. He couldn't overpower for sure, he couldn't bargain, he couldn't reason...he was just trapped. It wasn't even limited to his physical body, either. He wasn't even getting straight answers about his situation. He couldn't verbally defend himself. There was literally nothing he could do.
Bitter with frustration, he felt his throat knot up again. He couldn't hold it in any longer. In front of B'jin and the entire Katilan population, he broke down and cried.
He looked back at B'jin, his eyes still filled with blame and discomfort. All of B'jin's work was undone, and more so with every passing moment. If the greenrider thought hostility would get him anywhere, he was wrong. Talian had already explained dozens of times that he didn't give a shard about dragons. It was hitting the point where he actually wished ill upon them.
He didn't know what to do about B'jin's hot-and-cold personality. He thought the rider's defense of the dragon was amazingly childish, though now he knew to expect such childishness out of every single one of the riders in the Weyr. It was just another reason not to speak to them. The boy's back stiffened, his body becoming more rigid along with his demeanor. He wasn't allowed to ask questions or criticize, and now he wasn't allowed to leave when he wanted. Unsure of what he was allowed to do, he just sat there, silent.
He sniffled suddenly as the lump in his throat reformed. "You're just LIKE the Master at the Hall, though," he commented. "...And you're just like Talerian, at least as far as I can see..." he said, hardly realizing the words has escaped them by the time they had. It was less accusing and more an observation. If B'jin was just like them, he'd have to be dealt with the same way; by letting him have his way. The only way to win was to refuse to play.
"What do I have to do to please you? You can't make me like your dragon or your Weyr. Do you want me to medicate myself for depression? Is that good enough?" he asked, his voice shaking again. That was one of the worst things in his mind: not knowing or understanding the expectations. If the damn dragonriders would leave him alone with a task, at least he could focus on completing it.
He sputtered again and looked away shamefully. He decided to stop and hold his tongue before going off on a tangent. It wouldn't solve anything. B'jin would evade his questions and continue pretending to be his friend, only likely to show his true colors if his subject stepped out of line again. To a pessimistic man like Talian, there was no way out. He couldn't overpower for sure, he couldn't bargain, he couldn't reason...he was just trapped. It wasn't even limited to his physical body, either. He wasn't even getting straight answers about his situation. He couldn't verbally defend himself. There was literally nothing he could do.
Bitter with frustration, he felt his throat knot up again. He couldn't hold it in any longer. In front of B'jin and the entire Katilan population, he broke down and cried.
