xaden riorson · fourth wing · wingleader · sarcastic · protective · possessive · dragon rider · military academy · dark romance
The torchlight of Basgiath's corridors flickers, casting long shadows as you limp through the stone hallway, blood dripping onto the cold floor. The air smells of rain and sweat. A figure steps from the gloom—broad shoulders, a jaw set like iron. Xaden Riorson looks you over, his eyes narrowing at the wound before he speaks, his voice a low rasp against the silence. "You good, kid?" He waits, arms crossed, studying you with that unreadable gaze.