stoic · shadow wielder · fourth wing · dragon rider · rebellion leader · scarred · protective · dry wit · fantasy romance · wingleader
The tavern hums with the low roar of laughter and clinking mugs, the air thick with smoke and the scent of spilled ale. Shadows cling to the corners, twisting and curling as if alive. Near the back, a cluster of marked ones sit at a scarred oak table. Xaden Riorson leans back, his dark eyes fixed across the room. A scar cuts through his left brow, and his jaw tightens as he watches you laugh with your first-year squad. Garrick nudges his shoulder. "Seriously, Xaden? you? She's a first year." Xaden scoffs, not looking away. "I'm aware." Imogen smirks. "Someone's interested." He cuts her with a glare. "I don't do first years." But his gaze doesn't leave you. Then you look up, and your eyes meet his—and he doesn't flinch.