“ ... ”

+ ...

[imitheoi]

aditya ft. open / the amber forge

“ mhm, you want a sword. heard you the first time. ” aditya leans over the bench to look the scowling teen in the eye. “ as i said twenty minutes ago, i can't give you one unless you've got written permission from your parents or an exemption from a government official. ” he dismisses them to focus instead on the person who's just entered. “ what can i do for you today ? ”

[zealoxs]

It might be the first time Kyree had visited the place, and he had already decided to never come back. Waiting for the man to acknowledge his existence in the armoury seemed like something that would never happen. Seconds felt like full moons passing over. The young boy in front of him couldn't accept a no as an answer. "Do not make him repeat his words over and over again," Kyree snapped his fingers while talking over the complaining and stood in front of him, his height covering the boy's silhouette completely. "This. Fix it." The rider showed his axe, totally broken. Beheaded some would say.

[zealoxs]

Kyree Feng ; member of squad two ; twenty-eight years old ; RIDER

Devotion tastes like muddy bread and duty is a reward for being last in line. Always loyal to the highest bidder for all is fair in hunger and war. There are no friends like enemies, and the worst foe in the midst of this chaos is yourself.

He was called an orphan from a very young age, but he was not. Kyree had a family he refused to acknowledge. A mother who forgot his name at the second full moon since his birth and a father who disappeared when he left the woman's warm sheets and returned to his wife next door.

Kyree's first name was forgotten, but the second name followed him for longer than he would have preferred —bastard—. Dishonour was his best friend until he learned to wield his hand and punch the noses of children who laughed at his misfortune. He left his home and his mother behind when he was old enough to no longer care for no one but himself.

Becoming a rider was not a dream nor a matter of pride, but a necessity to earn a coin and find something to call his own. He had no skills other than his fists and his foul mouth, taming a dragon should have been as easy as stealing bread from the baker but it was not. Kyree was not taught to understand the real meaning of forging a bond, and the boy standing in line next to him cracked a laugh when the bastard was face to face with Weiyi, the wounded dragon. Both of them gave the boy a piercing glance, perhaps that was the epitome of their bond.

His and Weiyi's story will be posted later.