Zavien
Zavien hadn't been planning to help. He's already been away from Stormbreak for longer than he's comfortable with these days and he's itching to get back, to bury himself in the work so he doesn't linger on unpleasant thoughts. And yet, as he's departing Talyson's place for the skyport, he spots a familiar blonde perched on some fence slats, smoke billowing in the air like a beacon.
His boots crunch in the dirt along the road, occasionally sinking deeper in the wet patches of mud that cling to the leather. Sol has long since opted to fly, only diving down when he spots something in the long grass, his golden scales catching the sunlight. It's drawn his attention until now, until Colt is within range, the supplies sitting beside her in quiet invitation.
Pulling a hand from his pocket, he raises it in greeting before returning it to the denim jeans. "Colt." His head dips towards the woodchips and tools, sidestepping a wobbly bit of mud attempting to trip him. "How are things going? Do you need some help?"
His boots crunch in the dirt along the road, occasionally sinking deeper in the wet patches of mud that cling to the leather. Sol has long since opted to fly, only diving down when he spots something in the long grass, his golden scales catching the sunlight. It's drawn his attention until now, until Colt is within range, the supplies sitting beside her in quiet invitation.
Pulling a hand from his pocket, he raises it in greeting before returning it to the denim jeans. "Colt." His head dips towards the woodchips and tools, sidestepping a wobbly bit of mud attempting to trip him. "How are things going? Do you need some help?"
We wear our scars as proof
that we are still alive.
