Post by Zethius Hawthorn on Sept 1, 2012 13:47:42 GMT -7
Just as always the sun set on the horizon, big, orange, and bright. Its last rays touching the edges of the land as it went down for its daily slumber. In some cases it was a somber sight to watch with each passing second, so it seemed for one man who leaned against a marble archway as he watched with aged eyes at the shining orbs decent. One hand on the arch itself and the other on his right hip, he gaze longingly at the edge of the horizon, a tired expression crossing his face. It had been so long since he had seen the outside walls beyond the Dragon Temple, it almost seemed like ages ago. He wanted to leave once again, but duty persisted like a festering boil to keep him there confined within the walls of the tall stone. It wasn't that he didn't kike the stone walls, they made for a cozy and protected home to live in. It was just the fact of being a rider, it made one itch for that nub of adventure, take that risk that never gets taken, and soar into something headstrong and without worry.
Being an older man though, didn't leave much room for a rider of his age to consider such follies. On the contrary, he was the one telling others not to be foolish enough to do it themselves. Yet still he himself wanted to do the same thing. He had to constantly remind himself he was no longer a boy, but a man with responsibility. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and gripped at the stone curved wall next to him before pushing off of it with a weary grunt. He was getting older it seemed, that or just wearier. The man couldn't tell anymore. The days seemed to go by like a flurried blur, leaving what was behind him and everything else. With a scuffle he tried to tear his gaze from the hypnotic sun to go back inside the temple before it got dark. There were things to be done, but a part of him didn't want to do them. Instead he would of rather found a warm bath and then a soft bed to rest in. Being a dragon rider had its perks, but not without its hardships too.
Finally able to tear away, he walked back inside the corridors of the place he called home. The main hub and origin for all dragons and riders alike. It was were the first rider ever, made their first mount and bonded with the first dragon to consider man equal. He rubbed his left hand as he casually strolled, leather creaking from his riders outfit as he did so. His hand must of fell asleep as he had stood there. With a wince he rubbed the tingling sensation out of the palm. Of course if anyone was walking the hall they'd probably give him a hard time, thinking it was him being just a old man having to rub his hand like that. It was terribly unbecoming, but he had no choice, the blasted thing hurt. He cursed to himself as he finally gave up on trying to wake it. Instead he continued to walk down the long corridor to find his dragon. Yet he could meet anyone along the way that could quickly distract him. Then again, as much as he couldn't afford the distraction, he would welcome it anyway.
Being an older man though, didn't leave much room for a rider of his age to consider such follies. On the contrary, he was the one telling others not to be foolish enough to do it themselves. Yet still he himself wanted to do the same thing. He had to constantly remind himself he was no longer a boy, but a man with responsibility. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and gripped at the stone curved wall next to him before pushing off of it with a weary grunt. He was getting older it seemed, that or just wearier. The man couldn't tell anymore. The days seemed to go by like a flurried blur, leaving what was behind him and everything else. With a scuffle he tried to tear his gaze from the hypnotic sun to go back inside the temple before it got dark. There were things to be done, but a part of him didn't want to do them. Instead he would of rather found a warm bath and then a soft bed to rest in. Being a dragon rider had its perks, but not without its hardships too.
Finally able to tear away, he walked back inside the corridors of the place he called home. The main hub and origin for all dragons and riders alike. It was were the first rider ever, made their first mount and bonded with the first dragon to consider man equal. He rubbed his left hand as he casually strolled, leather creaking from his riders outfit as he did so. His hand must of fell asleep as he had stood there. With a wince he rubbed the tingling sensation out of the palm. Of course if anyone was walking the hall they'd probably give him a hard time, thinking it was him being just a old man having to rub his hand like that. It was terribly unbecoming, but he had no choice, the blasted thing hurt. He cursed to himself as he finally gave up on trying to wake it. Instead he continued to walk down the long corridor to find his dragon. Yet he could meet anyone along the way that could quickly distract him. Then again, as much as he couldn't afford the distraction, he would welcome it anyway.
