Every year, hundreds die within the walls of Basgiath War College. It's no surprise that many are those who choose the Riders Quadrant. Dragons do not tolerate much, but neither do the ruthless gryphons on the outside of the wards.
At least...
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The main corridor is oddly crowded for it being so late, nearly ten at night. Infantry are piled up on each other, creating a cerulean sea in the hallway, all staring at me as I pass through. Every one of them, following me as I walk along like they've never seen a dragon rider before. I smile a bit to myself as I trek forward into Central Issue. Sometimes I forget how amazing it is. It becomes so routine, mounting Tairn basically once a day for flight lessons, surrounded by others who do the same. All of these poor people will never get to experience that in their lives. Once I have my new goggles, checking in with the gruff man at the door so he knows the stock of things, I'm off again.
Tairn is waiting for me out in the flight field, hidden by the shadows of the night. Thankfully, the field is completely empty, aside from the dragon behind him. Fior. "Hi, baby," I hum as I jog forward. "I am not a hatchling," she snorts. I chuckle to myself as I come to a stop before her. "I know. It's a pet name," I explain to her. "I missed you." She snorts again before she leans her massive head down to nudge into my ribs. I fall straight onto my back but I don't mind, reaching for the small, thing scales on the underside of her jaw.
"I was able to get in contact with the one you requested," Tairn tells me. I look over sharply. "Really? What did he say?" He chuffs with a roll of his chest as his head turns away. "He agreed." I let out a breath of relief. "When do you want them?" I pinch my lips as I push myself back to a stand. "As soon as possible, I suppose, but you don't need to make a trip out here for it," I answer. "I don't know what to do with them yet."
I get a running start and set off, bounding up Fior's sky blue legs and over her narrow shoulders. "Can you cut dragon scale, maybe?" I ask as I settle into place, then rub a hand along her neck. "Not an Elder's," Fior laughs in my head. Then, without warning, she bounces up like Tairn often does.
My hands grip onto the developing pommel on her back, a spire extending up at the nape of her neck. There's no natural divot between her shoulders like Tairn, and the pommel is much shorter than his, but she's also not nearly as fast. He waits a moment for her to get a hang of being up in the air before he takes off. The night sky trembles with the upset but thankfully, it doesn't throw her off course.
"Perhaps the scales of his tail would do you better," Tairn says. I frown a bit as I think it over. "But aren't those weaker?" He chuffs something that reads as agreement. I know he's probably not quite as big as Tairn, but he can't be that much smaller. He's a Brown, for fuck's sake, and knowing that he's become an Elder and the head of the den only reinforces the idea. "Andarna's bond has a dragonscale vest," Fior tells me chirpily. I raise my brows, then grip tighter as we bank softly to turn toward the Vale. "Really?" "I smelled it." Her channel grows distant as she thinks.
