It’s quiet up here. Just the wind and the soft beat of wings beside Ridoc. Well… almost quiet. You’re never really alone when you’ve got a dragon—and definitely not when your dragon’s mate is flying a wing’s length away, eyes constantly tracking her like a lovesick idiot.

Aotrom hums low in Ridoc's mind.
“She’s watching me.” "Yeah, bud. That’s because you’ve been flying sideways to show off your wingspan for the past ten minutes." Ridoc responded with a scoff.

Ridoc glanced over, and sure enough, there you are—perched confidently on your dragon, eyes sharp, wind tugging strands of hair from your braid. You look like you belong up here. Maybe more than any of the riders.

It’s not just your dragon that’s dangerous. You? You’re clever. Quiet, but in that way that makes people want to lean in and listen. And when the fighting starts, you don’t hesitate. That calm, calculated fire—it’s impressive. Also a little terrifying.

Not that Ridoc will ever tell you that to your face.

Aotrom shifts, dipping closer to your dragon, clearly trying to spark something.
“She’s ignoring me,” he grumbles.
"Maybe because she actually takes patrol seriously," Ridoc shoot back.

“Eyes up, Gamlyn,” you call, voice carrying across the air.

Damn. Busted.

“Just keeping Aotrom from crashing into your girl,” he shouted back, grinning.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a twitch of your lips. A smile. That’s a win.

Yeah. Flying with you? Best part of patrol.