Theea
The storm’s not overhead yet, but it’s close. Thunder rolls low and deep, a soft warning in the bones, and lightning flashes sharp in the sky above. No rain. Just that electric, alive kind of air that makes the world feel like it’s holding its breath. It’s my favorite.
Stormbreak stretches out around me like a dream carved into stone. I’ve only been here a couple times before, but gods, I wish we’d lived here once — even just for a season. There’s a rough beauty to it, all soaring towers and endless sky, like the city decided being so high up wasn’t high enough and just kept building. It’s easy to fall in love with places when they don’t belong to you.
Still. I’ve got Torchline now. A room that’s mine, people who know my name, even a mom who came back when I stopped expecting it. I met my grandmother. I’m doing more than surviving — I’m making a life. And I’m actually starting to get pretty decent at what I do.
That’s reason enough to be in a good mood.
So I make my way up to the Dragon’s Nest before I leave. It’s where the Dragoons used to train — still might, for all I know — and I figure it wouldn’t hurt to squeeze in a little solo practice before I catch the next Skyship. The main yard is quiet when I arrive, open to the storming sky, and I slow as I take it in. Stone walls, reinforced beams, everything built with weight and purpose. It feels important just standing here.
I drop my backpack by the wall, roll my shoulders under the oversized weight of my dad’s jacket, and spot a training dummy a few paces off. I shrug the jacket off, depositing it beside my bag. I shed the sweater, goosebumps immediately spreading across my exposed skin, and I shudder. I’ll be sweating soon enough.
And this time, I’m more prepared.
From my bag, I pull two white cloth strips — soft, fraying at the edges — and start wrapping them around my hands and knuckles. I tighten the wrap on my right hand, flex my fingers once, and glance at the dummy with a crooked little grin.
Last time I tried punching drills, I skinned a knuckle, missed the bag, and accidentally gave Soh a black eye.
So. Yeah. Time to practice.
Stormbreak stretches out around me like a dream carved into stone. I’ve only been here a couple times before, but gods, I wish we’d lived here once — even just for a season. There’s a rough beauty to it, all soaring towers and endless sky, like the city decided being so high up wasn’t high enough and just kept building. It’s easy to fall in love with places when they don’t belong to you.
Still. I’ve got Torchline now. A room that’s mine, people who know my name, even a mom who came back when I stopped expecting it. I met my grandmother. I’m doing more than surviving — I’m making a life. And I’m actually starting to get pretty decent at what I do.
That’s reason enough to be in a good mood.
So I make my way up to the Dragon’s Nest before I leave. It’s where the Dragoons used to train — still might, for all I know — and I figure it wouldn’t hurt to squeeze in a little solo practice before I catch the next Skyship. The main yard is quiet when I arrive, open to the storming sky, and I slow as I take it in. Stone walls, reinforced beams, everything built with weight and purpose. It feels important just standing here.
I drop my backpack by the wall, roll my shoulders under the oversized weight of my dad’s jacket, and spot a training dummy a few paces off. I shrug the jacket off, depositing it beside my bag. I shed the sweater, goosebumps immediately spreading across my exposed skin, and I shudder. I’ll be sweating soon enough.
And this time, I’m more prepared.
From my bag, I pull two white cloth strips — soft, fraying at the edges — and start wrapping them around my hands and knuckles. I tighten the wrap on my right hand, flex my fingers once, and glance at the dummy with a crooked little grin.
Last time I tried punching drills, I skinned a knuckle, missed the bag, and accidentally gave Soh a black eye.
So. Yeah. Time to practice.
there is defiance in being a d r e a m e r
