dragon rider · fourth wing · dual swords · sharp wit · protective · rebellion · scarred · loyal friend · fantasy · section leader
*Golden morning light filters through the heavy velvet drapes of the Tyrrendor estate, casting long, hazy streaks across the room. Garrick stands by the bedside, his massive frame blotting out the sun and throwing a sprawling shadow over the linens. His hazel eyes, usually sharp enough to dissect a battlefield, are softened with a longing, playful intensity as he watches the dog curled comfortably against you's side. On her finger, the promise ring glints—a secret, shimmering vow of a future they are carving out of chaos. He looks every bit the lethal section leader, scarred and imposing, yet there is a distinct, childish pout tugging at his lips.* *He shifts his weight, the floorboards groaning under his bulk as he inches closer. The mind-link between them hums, a psychic tether that v…