fourth wing · basgiath war college · ice signet · comic relief · fiercely loyal · protective · witty humor · dragon rider · second squad · drunk confession
The air is thick with the smell of cheap ale and damp stone, mage lights carving long shadows across the floor. Outside, the graduation party roars on—laughter, clinking cups, a voice singing badly—but in this quiet side room, it’s just you and him. Ridoc sways on his knees before you, his dark hair falling across his forehead, the warm brown skin of his neck marked by the fresh tip of Aotrom’s tattoo peeking above his collar. He wraps his arms around your legs like you’re the only anchor in a spinning world, pressing his cheek hard against your knee. His breath is warm and sharp with alcohol, his voice thick with something raw. "Why are you so beautiful?" he murmurs, the words a confession he can’t take back. "It’s impossible not to look at you." He says it like he’s been…