13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

Disoriented, a bit bruised maybe, but mostly really dizzy, eventually something stopped his trajectory with a suddenness that left the La’Mellaen fool with his eyes closed as the world spun around his senses, trying to get his bearings; ending up with just a mirthful laugh before laying down with a sigh. He trusted Bryn to have the rest of the game for the next few moments.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The lilting tone of Whillow's confirmation told Bryn all he needed to know, the Sergeant readyin g his weapon, tracking the beast as it flew around and then after his mount, praying that he had timed everything right, that his poor chocobo would be just out of harms reach, and that he would get lucky with his shots.

Bryn was ready, ready to shoot and punch a hole through a wing, to rapid fire if needed, but his gaze flicked to Whillow, in surprise and admiration, as the wily half-dragon went sprinting towards a wall and just...climbed it. He was up high so fast, that Bryn barely had time to comprehend what he was doing. All he could realistically do was shoot him a questioning look,

Featherflame was having an absolute moment of panic. She was not running now because her owner had told her, no she was running because death was right behind her. And her little bird brain did not want to get snuffed out just yet, instincts demanding she run as hard as possible towards the two people who could save her. Her eyes were fixed on Bryn as she ran, panic evident in her fwees of distress, taloned feet kicking up dirt as she noted that the other new rider was up high, no time to think as to why he was up there, the little beast hardly a concern when the large one had her tail feathers in it s mouth, and that meant that there was a--

Whillow jumped, flew, and Featherflame looked up in shock, a little sounds of surprise escaping the beaked mouth, and then Whillow was on top of the dragon, and Featherflame was no longer in danger.

Bryn's mouth actually dropped open. He had not expected Whillow to do that, frankly, he wouldn't have thought the most insane person in the world would jump onto the back of an angry dragon! Instead of angrily scowling, he found himself in awe. The leap, the timing, the sheer strength it took to rip down the dragon's neck and through scales, it was all...it spoke to the fighting prowess that Whillow had just in his instincts and body. But, even as the little dragon dragged down the larger beast's back, it was all unrefined. There was no tactical moves, or focused attack, it was just wild slashes, bites, full on animal.

Still, the job was done, a wing ripped free of its connecting sinews, the next lunged upon with a frenzy, and suddenly, the dragon was plummeting towards the ground, its passenger clinging to its back, Bryn tracking the dragon as it fell and skidded against the dirt--

"WHILLOW!" He roared the black scaled dragon's name as the petite man was launched, the soldier rising up and sprinting towards the now beached dragon as he levelled his rifle at hip level, a full on sprint. Featherflame went flying past him, in the opposite direction, a questioning squeak as to what Bryn was thinking, the dragon thrashing about as Bryn pulled the trigger. The bang echoed, the ball of aether slamming into the dragon's chest, puncturing scales, his chest, a lung within it, as Bryn kept running. His thumb pressed to the firing mechanism, using the aether within him to rapidly charge the next shot, his eyes gleaming angrily as he felt the next shot ready, and firing again. Still roaring from the first, the second shot slammed into its exposed neck, choking off the roar and causing the beast to posture, head coming down, eyes angrily searching for who had just hurt them, and finding Bryn right there, bayonet fixed, and rifle levelled.

The blade slammed into the large beasts skull, the Sergeant twisting his rifle with a roar of his own, booted foot slamming into the top of the dragon's snout, keeping it closed as he saw its eyes focus on him, angry, hurting, and Bryn just growled out, "This is for Whillow!" And pulled the trigger.

There was no sound, the concentrated, heated aether going from barrel into skull seamlessly, blasting out through the neck of the beast, and Bryn watched as the light slowly faded from its gaze. He panted, heavily, glancing down, and then realized he was covered in ichor from that last shot, wrenching the bayonet free, turning towards his mount and--

"Whill!" He was running, eyes searching, finding the little dragon laying on the ground right up against a tree, where he had rolled to a stop as the soldier sprinted towards him, rifle slung over his back as he yelled again, "Whill!" Skidding to a knee next to the dragon, his hand pressed to his chest, to feel for a heartbeat, his eyes going wide as he didn't feel one, or at least not one he was familiar with, his breath sucking in as he rumbled out, "No, come on you little bastard! Wake up!"

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

Whillow let the weight of his head fall into that strong palm, as if finding comfort in the gentle graze against his cheek. His voice was quiet, the softest it had been, spoken for the clarity of his aching core. “I have seen monsters in skin. You, have too.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The silence dragged on for that long moment, as Bryn swore he saw little aetherite gears working behind those silver eyes, his gaze holding them as he waited, hand still gently cupping his chin, keeping the shy little dragon where he was until the whispered words nearly knocked him over. His breath sucked in, his left hand, the scarred one, the one holding Whillow's chin, trembling slightly.

Scars are more than just marred skin. They are lessons, mistakes, or victories. Reminders of history, etched into your skin.

His shoulders sagged, his head dropping, his eyes closed as he took a shuddering breath, and let him continue, his eyes opening when they were mentioned, holding that gaze again, his heart rate slowing slightly, and then increasing beat by beat. The soldier's breaths were slow, steady, careful, as he watched a clawed hand scratched at scales, and he slowly reached out with his right hand, a finger trailing slowly over those scales, feeling the rough texture of them, the marred chitin scratching at his skin lightly as he trailed that finger up the half-dragon's side, his eyes never leaving his.

That last statement was far too true, the Sergeant shivering as he dipped his head and gritted his teeth. He had seen it, it was true, the horrors that man could accomplish, on their own people. His grip on Whillow's chin was loose now, no longer holding him, just there, soft, his, a low, deep sigh breathing out as he let his hand fall away from the dragon's side, his eyes almost seeming haggard as he slipped his hand up to cup the petite dragon's face, murmuring out, "I have seen. And I have fought them. Including the one within."

He leaned his head down, forehead to forehead, his breath soft as he continued, his words soft, halting and starting as he went. "I can't understand--don't understand your customs. But it doesn't mean I can't...try." His hand slipped back, around, to the back for Whillow's neck, holding him softly there, as he took a shuddering breath, and rumbled out more sure. "Anything wished...present or future. I'm going to hold you to that, Whillow." His eyes dipped, than back up, holding his gaze, his eyes slowly narrowing, before he muttered softly, "And I'm not going to ask you for your body. You get to decide if you offer that or not. I won't take it."

Which was right when Bryn realized how he was holding the gecko, how close he was, and the heat within rose to his face, eyes going a little wide, as he pulled back slightly, his hand slipping away from the scaled neck, still held out slightly, hovering in the air as if unsure what to do with it, clearing his throat calmly and glancing towards Featherflame, his trusty steed waiting patiently...and he swore the chocobo was looking at him with reproach.

So I totally didn't fall asleep in the middle of writing a draft last night...

Anyways! Writing time!

For Both of your boys please! ;;; ""someone they view as a mentor"" (And why?)

Bryn:

He sits there for a moment, and thinks, and thinks, a look of consternation coming over his face, and then the tension easing with a sigh as his hand rubs over his beard.

"I can't believe I'm going to say the second one, so I'm starting with the first. First mentor was the Captain that led my scouting battalion. My parents and I, we had our differences. My father was a drunk, a firm believer that what he did in life would amount to nothing, so he did nothing. My mother did the best she could, but there is only so much a working woman can provide, especially when her work company was...less than scrupulous. Out of necessity I enlisted, and met that first real mentor, Captain Shay."

Bryn's gaze grew distant, his silvery eyes gleaming as he leaned against the table onto his forearms. "He was a gruff, no nonsense type of leader, and he whipped us all into shape quickly. He literally mentored us into warriors, into fighters, and took a personal interest in us all. For me specifically, he helped me become independent, shed that baggage of the past, and finally become...my own man. No longer the shadow of my father. He gave me a focus, a concentration, and when I showed affinity for scouting and rifles, he personally trained me. Even pushed me up to the rank of Sergeant so I could perform solo missions."

After a moment of retrospection, he groans again, and thunks his head down on the table, his voice muffled by his arms. "My other mentor would be Thancred." He lifted his head and grumbles out, "Despite his complete and utter lack of respect for authority or rank, he did a good job teaching me everything there is to know about spying, and blending into the shadows. His teaching methods were completely unacceptable and landed us in more danger than needed, but he did manage to get me to loosen up a little. I was a bit of a stickler for the rules back then and he taught me how to improvise."

He stares down the-layline-directory, his eyes gleaming, as he growls out, "If you even think of breathing a word of that to Thancred, I will show you exactly what he taught me in terms of interrogation tactics."

Kaleh'a:

"My mom!"

His answer was fast, smooth, and without a single ounce of hesitation, his feet swinging under the table. "She taught me almost everything I know! From archery, to Menphina, to cartography and trade. She wanted me to have a well rounded education, and she taught me so much.

"She also taught me how to be kind. To care and look out for those in need." His voice had softened, his eyes too, as his fingers interlocked in front of him on the table surface. "She taught me to look for the good, to always treat others with respect, and help wherever I can. It's always served me well. Even if I have been burned by it, and certainly had my kindness taken advantage of, I still wouldn't..." he paused, mused for a bit, and then smiled. "Yah I really wouldn't change anything. It is all what made me the man I am today. And I'm proud of that man."

He grinned, and chuckled out, "Oh and she taught me that too, self worth! She's a pretty great mom!"

🫶💕 to all. <3

🫶💕 for all! <3

No you do not hear them fighting in the background over who gets first dibs.

Reblog this if you’re a chill roleplayer who doesn’t mind if your rp partners take multiple weeks, or even months to reply.