Same people.
Different idiots.
A living scrapbook
of our adventures.
Explore
Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
Observations. Conversations. Questionable wisdom.
Showing entries about book club. Show everything
They reached the breeding hold and the room went properly quiet around Nekros’s cruelty. Summoneyy put it plainly: there are things too vile to polish into war stories, and the dead hatchlings did not need polishing.
I then managed to mistake the chapter, its speakers, and its order, which gave Blaedy the rare satisfaction of catching me wrong three times before supper. I learned my letters from Mara’s ledgers, yet apparently read a chapter like a man skimming a tavern bill. Arrowyy was quick to note which sorrow I had somehow stepped around.
Summoneyy has set herself a chapter a day, hoping to finish before forever arrives. Blaedy approved. I shall keep to the pages actually beneath our noses, rather than riding ahead and shouting back what I saw over the next hill.
Blaedy went looking for Punt’s full name and uncovered the miserable fact that even a perfectly good name can be claimed by somebody else first. Meho had been forced to tack on Gnotanome, while Punt herself apparently carries on as though height were a negotiable opinion. A sound family tradition, if a tiring one.
Summoneyy produced a registrar’s page bearing a name so crude it made the whole business of reservations seem less like civic order and more like a tavern dare. Arrowyy immediately proposed a hard campaign for the opening of reservations; Summoneyy may have developed a timely physician’s appointment. Meanwhile, the dragon book arrives Friday. Culture is proceeding, though not in a straight line.
