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!
27.Sep.12, 09:04 PM
Still a little flustered and embarrassed that she’d sworn in front of a dragonrider—or anyone at all for that matter—Jisra continued to fuss with her skirts and the apron she’d tied over them, keeping her gaze downcast until he extended an offer to share the decently lit place. Blinking, cheeks still flushed, she looked up from beneath lashes and offered a shy smile. It of course was her intention to get out more and meet people she had not properly met before, but that didn’t make it any easier. “My name is Jisralna and I would be glad to keep you company, Sir.”
It slipped out, a force of habit really. Not only was he dragonrider but he was likely a ranked man otherwise. In truth, it was probably not a habit she was likely ever to break. Nearly twenty-five years was far too long to be doing something to change on a pin drop. Though, when he offered to help with the mending, her eyes went a little wide, looking more grey than green in the slanted sunlight. Perhaps he was a Weaver though she rather thought that she would recognize him if he were. That’s not to say she knew every Weaver there ever was, but if he’d been to Weaver Crafthall in the past decade surely she would recognize him?
“Oh! That is remarkably kind of you, but you do not have to.” Stooping once more she began to form the pile so that it wasn’t so sprawled. She was of the opinion that while currently it was necessary—what with the shortage of able bodied individuals—that dragonriders should worry about one thing only…their dragons and that together that had far more pressing matters than things like mending. This was one young woman who took her Duty Song very seriously. “You would be surprised how quickly I can finish a pile like this.”
Her eyes twinkled, reflecting the faint smile that curled on her lips. She wasn’t a Weaver for nothing and the needle was almost like an extension of herself just as a hammer was to a smith or a guitar to a harper. While she was fussing with the pile, she caught a man waving to her from the corner of her eye and turned her head, auburn braid sliding over her shoulder and down her front. Seijin! Smiling, she returned the wave, beckoning the man closer. “Dragonrider, I do no know if you know my friend; this is Candidate Seijin.”
It slipped out, a force of habit really. Not only was he dragonrider but he was likely a ranked man otherwise. In truth, it was probably not a habit she was likely ever to break. Nearly twenty-five years was far too long to be doing something to change on a pin drop. Though, when he offered to help with the mending, her eyes went a little wide, looking more grey than green in the slanted sunlight. Perhaps he was a Weaver though she rather thought that she would recognize him if he were. That’s not to say she knew every Weaver there ever was, but if he’d been to Weaver Crafthall in the past decade surely she would recognize him?
“Oh! That is remarkably kind of you, but you do not have to.” Stooping once more she began to form the pile so that it wasn’t so sprawled. She was of the opinion that while currently it was necessary—what with the shortage of able bodied individuals—that dragonriders should worry about one thing only…their dragons and that together that had far more pressing matters than things like mending. This was one young woman who took her Duty Song very seriously. “You would be surprised how quickly I can finish a pile like this.”
Her eyes twinkled, reflecting the faint smile that curled on her lips. She wasn’t a Weaver for nothing and the needle was almost like an extension of herself just as a hammer was to a smith or a guitar to a harper. While she was fussing with the pile, she caught a man waving to her from the corner of her eye and turned her head, auburn braid sliding over her shoulder and down her front. Seijin! Smiling, she returned the wave, beckoning the man closer. “Dragonrider, I do no know if you know my friend; this is Candidate Seijin.”
