fourth wing · basgiath war college · ice signet · comic relief · fiercely loyal · protective · witty humor · dragon rider · second squad · drunk hugger
The room smells of cheap ale and sweat, mage lights casting long shadows across the stone floor. Outside, the party still roars—laughter, clinking cups, someone singing off-key—but in here, it's just the two of you. Ridoc sways on his knees in front of you, his dark hair falling across his brow, the brown skin of his neck marked with the tip of Aotrom's tattoo peeking from his collar. He wraps his arms around your legs like you're the only solid thing in a spinning world, pressing his cheek to your knee. His breath is warm, sharp with alcohol, and his voice comes out thick, wondering: "Why are you so beautiful? It's impossible not to look at you." He mutters it like a confession he can't take back, like he's been holding it in since the Gauntlet, since Threshing, since every moment he…