We can easily forgive a child
who is afraid of the dark
who is afraid of the dark
Stepping off the skyship into Torchline was both a breath of fresh air and a bittersweet tightening of his chest. He instinctually turned to call for Sol through the bond, only to feel the void of distance between them. It sent his heart racing, anxiety welling inside as the darkness of his thoughts took the dragon's absence as an opportunity to rally their forces. But it was better here than Stormbreak. He'd spent days caring for a plant just to hide from the rest of the city. Finally, he'd decided he just needed to get out for a day, to let his body relax from under the oppression of their leadership and his own fears that threatened to run rampant.
Determined to do as planned, Zavien worked his way through the port and into Haulani, letting his feet wander to distract his mind. He didn't notice most of the people he passed, his eyes unfocused while he worked to soothe his emotions alone. It seemed to be a losing fight, his jaw clenching as he tried to wrestle with being alone.
Luckily - although perhaps not so lucky for someone - a shout pulled at the Dragoon's protective instincts, lifting him from the pool of suffocating thoughts enough to let him shake the heaviness from his limbs in light of the spiked adrenaline. He hesitated only a second before running to the sound that no one else was bothering to investigate - maybe that was just a Torchline thing.
When he reached the alleyway, he saw a man surrounded by three others, his fists raised in defense. The space was too tight for his sword, so Zavien abandoned the idea, lunging at the first man from behind to wrap his forearm across his neck. Grappling was a common method of training amongst the Dragoons, and he had no difficulty latching on, using his other arm to twist the man's wrist behind him, a clatter sounding as the knife dropped to the ground.
Determined to do as planned, Zavien worked his way through the port and into Haulani, letting his feet wander to distract his mind. He didn't notice most of the people he passed, his eyes unfocused while he worked to soothe his emotions alone. It seemed to be a losing fight, his jaw clenching as he tried to wrestle with being alone.
Luckily - although perhaps not so lucky for someone - a shout pulled at the Dragoon's protective instincts, lifting him from the pool of suffocating thoughts enough to let him shake the heaviness from his limbs in light of the spiked adrenaline. He hesitated only a second before running to the sound that no one else was bothering to investigate - maybe that was just a Torchline thing.
When he reached the alleyway, he saw a man surrounded by three others, his fists raised in defense. The space was too tight for his sword, so Zavien abandoned the idea, lunging at the first man from behind to wrap his forearm across his neck. Grappling was a common method of training amongst the Dragoons, and he had no difficulty latching on, using his other arm to twist the man's wrist behind him, a clatter sounding as the knife dropped to the ground.
The real tragedy is men
who are afraid of the light
who are afraid of the light
Zavien
