Post by Nym Zeal on Nov 5, 2004 4:18:57 GMT -5
The small frame of the rider was huddled in a corner of her room. She'd pushed the bed up against the door so that no one would be able to come in. She hadn't left her room in days, except for the rare moments when she climbed out the window and onto Eirik's head. The dragon would have to call her though and then she was in a daze as he practically ordered her to eat or bathe. Whichever need the dragon felt was most neglected at the time. Now though, the insane gleam had come back to her eyes and she scribbled on a piece of parchment.
Gone.
Crawling under the bed, she pushed the note under the crack between the end of the door and the stone floor and then crawled out. Packing her clothes, her book on herbs and, which may be strange to someone who didn't understand, her jewerly box (with the contents removed and placed beneath her pillows) she crawled onto the windowsill and waited. It was not long before the white dragon was there, his concern evident when the rider crawled onto him and down his neck, tying the back to the rest of the riding packs but removing the dragon jewerly box and clutching it in her arms with her eyes closed. The only jewerly she owned were those under her pillow, the enchanted pendant about her neck and a new bracelet that held an inexpensive golden locket with a diamon chip on the front. In the locket she kept miniture portraits of her children.
She had everything she needed, her grasp tight on the jewerly box as she stared blankly forward and rocked. Soon she started singing, softly to herself and acting as though she were rocking one of her children instead of a box. Soft, so soft, as the dragon took off and flew away.
Gone.
Crawling under the bed, she pushed the note under the crack between the end of the door and the stone floor and then crawled out. Packing her clothes, her book on herbs and, which may be strange to someone who didn't understand, her jewerly box (with the contents removed and placed beneath her pillows) she crawled onto the windowsill and waited. It was not long before the white dragon was there, his concern evident when the rider crawled onto him and down his neck, tying the back to the rest of the riding packs but removing the dragon jewerly box and clutching it in her arms with her eyes closed. The only jewerly she owned were those under her pillow, the enchanted pendant about her neck and a new bracelet that held an inexpensive golden locket with a diamon chip on the front. In the locket she kept miniture portraits of her children.
She had everything she needed, her grasp tight on the jewerly box as she stared blankly forward and rocked. Soon she started singing, softly to herself and acting as though she were rocking one of her children instead of a box. Soft, so soft, as the dragon took off and flew away.
