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!
01.Oct.12, 03:09 PM
“Sharpy!”
K’ren grinned as he entered the familiar room, wrapping his arms around the women who’d called his name—his nickname, Farnath help him, since when had he accepted that as his name--and squeezing tight. He withdrew from her and cupped her face in his hands. “You look lovely today. Absolutely radiant, dear. Not at all like you had five boys with that wher you call your husband. I might just be falling in love…”
She giggled and smacked him with the cloth she had in hand. K’ren made a face of mock pain. “Oh, off with you, you old flirt. Constantly disrupting a good woman’s work.”
“Do you have my vest?” K’ren asked.
She arched an eyebrow. “That old thing? I left it around here somewhere…” she seemed as if she were about to apologize, some of the good mood ebbing away in the process, however the bluerider had turned his attention away from his old friend and into the rest of the room, where the weavers were quietly continuing their work. His gaze alighted on one woman in particular.
“It appears I don’t need you,” K’ren said, glancing slyly at his friend.
The older woman rolled her eyes, patted his head, and moved right back onto her business.
The bluerider shrugged and moved over. “I see you’ve got my tunic,” he said, “Has it been finished yet?”
He reached out and snatched the tan tunic without so much as a by-your-leave. He blinked as it unraveled to reveal a brown dragon sitting smug, threaded well and deep into what had once been one of his plainer pieces. Hmm.
He wrapped it carefully back up, looked around to see if anyone had reacted—no, they weren’t paying any heed, all too busy with their own work—and turned to the woman.
“Well that’s not exactly what I asked for,” he said, mildly.
Was this some kind of new weyr propaganda he had not been made aware of? Stitch dragons into all the clothes and then, perhaps, we will firmly stand as a weyr united by one purpose? Not particularly all that clever…
He looked back at the woman, and it clicked. Oh, no, no of course not. No work that pretty would be dedicated to propaganda. She had sewn it on his tunic for another reason, then. So the question now came to be… why? It was lovingly done. Had she stolen his to give to someone, perhaps a lover at the weyr? He was not familiar with her or her character, but dismissed the thought. It was highly unlikely that any of the women he knew here would have let her work here if the girl was inclined towards thievery. They were less pleasant than they appeared, many of them quite harsh with their punishments. Some other reason, then.
K’ren opened the tunic again, so that he could examine it. The workmanship was exquisite. Why had he not made friends with this particular weaver, or heard that she was capable of such things? He held off complement, for the moment, keeping his cards close to his chest—as it were. If he played them right...
“I suppose the obvious question would be, what on Pern possessed you to sew U’gart’s brown on my tunic?” He asked, the humor softening his eyes.
K’ren grinned as he entered the familiar room, wrapping his arms around the women who’d called his name—his nickname, Farnath help him, since when had he accepted that as his name--and squeezing tight. He withdrew from her and cupped her face in his hands. “You look lovely today. Absolutely radiant, dear. Not at all like you had five boys with that wher you call your husband. I might just be falling in love…”
She giggled and smacked him with the cloth she had in hand. K’ren made a face of mock pain. “Oh, off with you, you old flirt. Constantly disrupting a good woman’s work.”
“Do you have my vest?” K’ren asked.
She arched an eyebrow. “That old thing? I left it around here somewhere…” she seemed as if she were about to apologize, some of the good mood ebbing away in the process, however the bluerider had turned his attention away from his old friend and into the rest of the room, where the weavers were quietly continuing their work. His gaze alighted on one woman in particular.
“It appears I don’t need you,” K’ren said, glancing slyly at his friend.
The older woman rolled her eyes, patted his head, and moved right back onto her business.
The bluerider shrugged and moved over. “I see you’ve got my tunic,” he said, “Has it been finished yet?”
He reached out and snatched the tan tunic without so much as a by-your-leave. He blinked as it unraveled to reveal a brown dragon sitting smug, threaded well and deep into what had once been one of his plainer pieces. Hmm.
He wrapped it carefully back up, looked around to see if anyone had reacted—no, they weren’t paying any heed, all too busy with their own work—and turned to the woman.
“Well that’s not exactly what I asked for,” he said, mildly.
Was this some kind of new weyr propaganda he had not been made aware of? Stitch dragons into all the clothes and then, perhaps, we will firmly stand as a weyr united by one purpose? Not particularly all that clever…
He looked back at the woman, and it clicked. Oh, no, no of course not. No work that pretty would be dedicated to propaganda. She had sewn it on his tunic for another reason, then. So the question now came to be… why? It was lovingly done. Had she stolen his to give to someone, perhaps a lover at the weyr? He was not familiar with her or her character, but dismissed the thought. It was highly unlikely that any of the women he knew here would have let her work here if the girl was inclined towards thievery. They were less pleasant than they appeared, many of them quite harsh with their punishments. Some other reason, then.
K’ren opened the tunic again, so that he could examine it. The workmanship was exquisite. Why had he not made friends with this particular weaver, or heard that she was capable of such things? He held off complement, for the moment, keeping his cards close to his chest—as it were. If he played them right...
“I suppose the obvious question would be, what on Pern possessed you to sew U’gart’s brown on my tunic?” He asked, the humor softening his eyes.
Code:
[span style="background-color:#2F2F4F;"][color=#0BB5FF]Beloyath Speech[/color][/span]
