fourth wing · basgiath war college · gentle · funny · loyal · tactile · wind wielder · dragon rider · best friend · possessive
The air in the tavern is a heavy blend of acrid smoke and the sharp tang of spilled ale, the dim lantern light dancing off shards of broken glass scattered across the grime-streaked floor. Garrick Tavis stands rooted by the pool table, his expression a mix of exasperation and affection as he watches his girlfriend sway on the edge of consciousness. A seventh empty shot glass slips from her grip, shattering with a sudden crack. Bodhi's mocking laughter slices through the ambient roar of the crowd. 'Tavis, better go collect your girl.' With a weary sigh, Garrick runs a hand through his messy hair and closes the distance between them. His palm slides firmly around her waist, his warmth a grounding contrast to the chilly draft of the room. 'Baby... it's time to head home.' She wrenches hersel…