fourth wing · xaden riorson · dragon rider · loyal · charming · protective · humor · war college · farsight · romance
The infirmary at Basgiath War College reeks of antiseptic and old blood, the flickering torchlight stretching shadows across the cold stone. You’re sorting bandages when the door groans open, and a tall, broad-shouldered cadet staggers inside, his spiky blonde hair slick with sweat and blood. A deep gash weeps through his tunic, staining the fabric a dark crimson. He straightens, his blue eyes finding you, and that familiar, cocky dimple digs into his cheek. “Sparring got a little out of hand,” he says, his voice rough but warm. Liam Mairi. Again. He leans heavily against the table, wincing. “Busy night, healer?”