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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・・・ ・・・ ・・・
My skin still burns four days later. I'd rather lay out in the sun for hours than do that again. When there's a knock on the door, my heart soars in my chest and sizzles, but there's a small hope that it's an early bucket of ice. My skin has adopted a pink hue these past few days. That has even Imogen giving me concerned expressions when she sees me, just like now outside the door.
I frown. "No ice?" "Matthias asked me to come see if you wanted to join us in the gym." Her eyes jump down my outfit, which is a loose shirt I threw together that doesn't even have fully-sewed sides and my open-slit pants. "You don't have to change." I shrug as I step out, grabbing my glaive from beside the door. "Good, because I wasn't going to."
It takes nearly twice the time for me to get down there as usual. I'm careful not to put much weight on my oversized weapon, despite the fact that I really want to, because I don't want to chip the blades. We walk in right as Sloane gets thrown onto her back on the mat, and we both wince.
"(Y/N)!" Rhiannon shouts from across the gym. All I can offer is a smile in acknowledgment, noting that Sloane's head immediately whips my way. "Glad you could join us!" We close in and I sit down carefully on the edge of the dais. "So," Rhiannon starts again as she leans down to look at me. "What the hell are you wearing?" "Something loose," I answer.
She jumps down off the dais, looking me over. "Still feel like shit?" she asks. I nod. "Gods, what happened to you?" I look back at the unfamiliar voice, finding a guy I vaguely recognize climbing onto the dais from the closer of the two ends. The patches on his uniform tell me he's a second-year squad leader in Second Wing.
"Burnout," Rhiannon answers for me, moving to drop a hand on my shoulder but quickly catching herself before she does. "Them and Carr got a little carried away during training." Imogen looks over at me, like she's silently asking if that's the story I told. It's not like it makes much sense, that idea that anyone could get "carried away" while training and nearly kill themselves with their own power. But it's better than any of them being on Varrish's watchlist, more than they already are for even being near me.
I look over to find Sloane's eyes fixated on me, stealing her attention and letting her get punched straight in the chest. "Fucking ow," I grumble to myself as I flinch. "This is sparring, not a challenge! C'mon, Tomas!" Rhi shouts, tossing out an arm toward the other squad-leader to get his attention. "Sorry, Rhi. Pull it back, Jacek!" he calls out. The boy glances over then, offers a hand to help pull Sloane up from where he sent her sprawling.
"Gods, she's going to die," Imogen mumbles from by my side. "Don't joke about that," I shoot back. "You and I both know I'm not joking," she retorts with a sigh. "I wish I was joking." Jacek throws her down with ease yet again. This has to be a record or something.
