25.Oct.12, 01:39 AM
Though much of the time Jisralna seemed to be a rather calm and collected young woman, when it came to shouting and yelling and anger in general, she didn’t handle it very well, especially when turned on her. It made her insides flutter and squirm and brought tears to her eyes many times faster than emotional or physical pain ever could. Of course, though she couldn’t possible discern this from his knee which she still stared it, her flustered state seemed to elicit a similar if not nearly as dramatic response in the dragonrider because he went from cryptic and possible angry to reassuring in a matter of seconds.
The smile was lost on the young woman as she didn’t see it and she was reluctant to believe him straight away. Of course she had yet to meet an ill-tempered bluerider but she had not met every one of them in the two years she’d been at Katlia, so who was to say that this wasn’t a man who harbored a short temper. Sure he said he wasn’t mad, but maybe he just didn’t want her to make a scene; she didn’t want to make a scene but it was unavoidable.
She almost opened herself to the notion that he wasn’t upset when he offered a compliment though her suspicion and anxiety returned full force when he spoke of bluer shades. She really should have asked first! It was better to ask permission than to have to beg for forgiveness; that was generally her policy and it had served her well for nearly twenty-five years!
When the dragonrider crouched down in front of her, Jisralna bit down slightly on her lip and nervously met the man’s gaze, green eyes filled with frenzy of anxiety, regret, and a bit of fear. When he introduced himself she blinked once…twice and then lowered her gaze to his hand. It took a moment but after some visible hesitation she untangled her hands from her skirts and reached out to take his hand, prompted by his grin more than anything. She was by no means at ease of course, but she was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t start shouting.
“I am Jisralna.” Her voice was soft and still wavered though she seemed a bit less…breakable now.
Just then a dark woman—the one that had caused a scene at the public punishment of the Candidate Sanderon—stepped into view, startling Jisralna. Her grip reflexively tightened on the Rider’s hand as she stared up at the younger woman. Her cheeks colored as attention was once more brought to the partially finished brown dragon on the bluerider’s cuff. She’d never imagined that the little hobby of hers would garner that much attention around the Weyr. Though from now on she was just going to stick to sketching her ideas. Blinking several times, unsure of what to say, her mouth opened and then closed several times, making her look rather like a frazzled fish.
The smile was lost on the young woman as she didn’t see it and she was reluctant to believe him straight away. Of course she had yet to meet an ill-tempered bluerider but she had not met every one of them in the two years she’d been at Katlia, so who was to say that this wasn’t a man who harbored a short temper. Sure he said he wasn’t mad, but maybe he just didn’t want her to make a scene; she didn’t want to make a scene but it was unavoidable.
She almost opened herself to the notion that he wasn’t upset when he offered a compliment though her suspicion and anxiety returned full force when he spoke of bluer shades. She really should have asked first! It was better to ask permission than to have to beg for forgiveness; that was generally her policy and it had served her well for nearly twenty-five years!
When the dragonrider crouched down in front of her, Jisralna bit down slightly on her lip and nervously met the man’s gaze, green eyes filled with frenzy of anxiety, regret, and a bit of fear. When he introduced himself she blinked once…twice and then lowered her gaze to his hand. It took a moment but after some visible hesitation she untangled her hands from her skirts and reached out to take his hand, prompted by his grin more than anything. She was by no means at ease of course, but she was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t start shouting.
“I am Jisralna.” Her voice was soft and still wavered though she seemed a bit less…breakable now.
Just then a dark woman—the one that had caused a scene at the public punishment of the Candidate Sanderon—stepped into view, startling Jisralna. Her grip reflexively tightened on the Rider’s hand as she stared up at the younger woman. Her cheeks colored as attention was once more brought to the partially finished brown dragon on the bluerider’s cuff. She’d never imagined that the little hobby of hers would garner that much attention around the Weyr. Though from now on she was just going to stick to sketching her ideas. Blinking several times, unsure of what to say, her mouth opened and then closed several times, making her look rather like a frazzled fish.