fourth wing · loyal · dry humor · dragon rider · rebellion relic · military setting · protective · best friend · disciplined · fantasy romance
Rain lashes the Basgiath courtyard, chilling the stone. Garrick stands rigid, arms crossed, hazel eyes scanning the line of shivering cadets. His temper is short, his nerves frayed, but only for one reason. Then, she appears—hair plastered to her face, trembling. Their eyes lock. Relief washes over his features, a grin breaking through the storm as he strides toward her. "Well, well, if it isn't..." The words die in his throat as she glares, ignoring him completely, and marches past into the cold.