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.Jun.12, 10:30 PM
B'jin watched, silent and shaking, as Talian reacted to his words. He didn't know what type of storm to expect, but he wasn't so optimistic as to expect no storm. You couldn't simply receive news such as the bombshell he'd dropped upon the young healer, and expect nothing to happen. But Talian was unpredictable, the news heavy, and B'jin was probably more terrified of how the boy would take it than he had been in a long time.
He didn't notice the drinking, for at that point it was irrelevant, and B'jin didn't want to draw attention to it, less it make Talian self conscious - or further encourage him to drink more. A parent's hypocrisy was all the leeway B'jin needed, to be highly disproving on any habit Talian might pick up that would have him using alcohol to dull pain. As if it ever worked. The greenrider's finger's twitched against his sides, arms still wrapped around himself, fearful of pressing himself into Talian's personal space when the young man wouldn't want his affections.
Talian's words cut through B'jin like a hot knife through butter, searing along the edges and leaving him with a gaping hole. The greenrider's face crumpled, and he bit his bottom lip fiercely, staring at Talian with wide, tearful eyes as he tried to figure out where the thoughts were taking him, what he was thinking, why he was thinking it. In reality, B'jin could related. Bendilam would never be his son, not in the way Talian was, not in the way Indamor was. He wasn't his child, for he had turned away from mother and baby, and never looked back.
This was different. He had taken Talian away from what might have been; he hadn't walked away from it. He knew the healer hated his current lot in life - how many times had B'jin sat patiently so Talian could fume and rage and rant, only to apologise for it later? How many time had B'jin apologised for the twist in fate that had caused their situations? He shuddered as Talian spoke of names, blood running cold down the length of his spine at the words. Fate. B'jin shuddered again, wondering how much belief he put in such a thing, and wondering if it mattered.
"She will," B'jin whispered, recalling the possessively wary Carys, the cheerful group of women, the bundle he could only assume was a dedicatedly wrapped child. The lack of Talian's father. He paused for a moment, sad eyes considering Talian quietly, before he told him of just those things, voice low and barely audible over the insistent pounding of the rain upon the roof. He didn't stop to think if the things he said would make or break Talian, because if he did, he knew he wouldn't say a word.
Talian deserved to know.
He didn't notice the drinking, for at that point it was irrelevant, and B'jin didn't want to draw attention to it, less it make Talian self conscious - or further encourage him to drink more. A parent's hypocrisy was all the leeway B'jin needed, to be highly disproving on any habit Talian might pick up that would have him using alcohol to dull pain. As if it ever worked. The greenrider's finger's twitched against his sides, arms still wrapped around himself, fearful of pressing himself into Talian's personal space when the young man wouldn't want his affections.
Talian's words cut through B'jin like a hot knife through butter, searing along the edges and leaving him with a gaping hole. The greenrider's face crumpled, and he bit his bottom lip fiercely, staring at Talian with wide, tearful eyes as he tried to figure out where the thoughts were taking him, what he was thinking, why he was thinking it. In reality, B'jin could related. Bendilam would never be his son, not in the way Talian was, not in the way Indamor was. He wasn't his child, for he had turned away from mother and baby, and never looked back.
This was different. He had taken Talian away from what might have been; he hadn't walked away from it. He knew the healer hated his current lot in life - how many times had B'jin sat patiently so Talian could fume and rage and rant, only to apologise for it later? How many time had B'jin apologised for the twist in fate that had caused their situations? He shuddered as Talian spoke of names, blood running cold down the length of his spine at the words. Fate. B'jin shuddered again, wondering how much belief he put in such a thing, and wondering if it mattered.
"She will," B'jin whispered, recalling the possessively wary Carys, the cheerful group of women, the bundle he could only assume was a dedicatedly wrapped child. The lack of Talian's father. He paused for a moment, sad eyes considering Talian quietly, before he told him of just those things, voice low and barely audible over the insistent pounding of the rain upon the roof. He didn't stop to think if the things he said would make or break Talian, because if he did, he knew he wouldn't say a word.
Talian deserved to know.
