Boys workin' on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
You're a traitor.
Three words, and his life is ruined. It hurts- hurts worse than if she'd slapped him, worse than a punch to the gut. Worse than the concussion he suffered only days before. It hurts so badly that he can't breathe, like his heart has been ripped from his body leaving his lungs torn sails flapping bloody in the wind.
You're a traitor.
Koa chokes on his outrage, gagging on the pain, the disbelief and shock that courses through him like a tidal wave of emotion eroding his soul. "You don't mean that," Koa whispers, heedless of how his hands are shaking, the pallor that's washed over his face. He's dizzy, on the verge of keeling over as the foundations of his entire life are shaken to their core.
Traitor--
But she does mean it, he knows she means it, because despite how gaping the void between them has grown, Koa still knows her. Anju doesn't mince words, or say things that don't have meaning. She doesn't throw around idle barbs or pointlessly cut other people down. If she's calling him a traitor then that's what he is, a traitor to all the Dragoons stand for, what's been inscribed in their code of honor since the organization's dawn.
Codes can be re-written.
Koa inhales, hard and sharp, as realization hits. In the darkness, a path arises, as clear as a high beam cutting through an inky, moonless night. He might be a traitor to the Old Guard, but to the Dragoons of today? To Zavien, or Everest, or all the people that he's sworn to protect? Straightening up, he stares at Anju, steel in his copper eyes. "I understand." Codes can be re-written, his aunt had told him, so that's what Koa will do. Write his own code, and live by it. Protect his home, and the people in it.
"I'm coming back to Stormbreak. Back to the Dragoons. I'll survive, Auntie, but I won't leave the people I love behind."
Including her.
Three words, and his life is ruined. It hurts- hurts worse than if she'd slapped him, worse than a punch to the gut. Worse than the concussion he suffered only days before. It hurts so badly that he can't breathe, like his heart has been ripped from his body leaving his lungs torn sails flapping bloody in the wind.
You're a traitor.
Koa chokes on his outrage, gagging on the pain, the disbelief and shock that courses through him like a tidal wave of emotion eroding his soul. "You don't mean that," Koa whispers, heedless of how his hands are shaking, the pallor that's washed over his face. He's dizzy, on the verge of keeling over as the foundations of his entire life are shaken to their core.
Traitor--
But she does mean it, he knows she means it, because despite how gaping the void between them has grown, Koa still knows her. Anju doesn't mince words, or say things that don't have meaning. She doesn't throw around idle barbs or pointlessly cut other people down. If she's calling him a traitor then that's what he is, a traitor to all the Dragoons stand for, what's been inscribed in their code of honor since the organization's dawn.
Codes can be re-written.
Koa inhales, hard and sharp, as realization hits. In the darkness, a path arises, as clear as a high beam cutting through an inky, moonless night. He might be a traitor to the Old Guard, but to the Dragoons of today? To Zavien, or Everest, or all the people that he's sworn to protect? Straightening up, he stares at Anju, steel in his copper eyes. "I understand." Codes can be re-written, his aunt had told him, so that's what Koa will do. Write his own code, and live by it. Protect his home, and the people in it.
"I'm coming back to Stormbreak. Back to the Dragoons. I'll survive, Auntie, but I won't leave the people I love behind."
Including her.
Koa Carpenter
I just think about my baby
I'm so full of love I could barely eat
I'm so full of love I could barely eat
