Leona Kingscholar was always second best.

A gnarly scar over his left eye, followed by the ever so arrogant personality of what could be defined as a thirteen year old boy just learning that he could use an incognito tab on his phone. But to be fair, it’s likely because Leona really had just learned this information at the age of twenty. Phones weren’t a very popular thing in the nation of Sunset Savanna. Which to be fair, was expected. They didn’t rely on modern technology because if they wanted to talk to someone - they’d go talk to them.

But here he was, quiet as the daybreak of dawn in his room. His bed perked out like a nest if you didn’t know any better. It was his den - his home. But it didn’t feel like home the same way his room in the savanna did. With the clingyness of his nephew, the loud outbursts of his brother or the brawls they’d get into - it just felt… empty.

Leona was never sure what to make of this. But it certainly wasn’t a fond emotion. Maybe it was the laziness talking for him, but it made him feel glum. An empty rot in his chest that compared nothing to the rising jealousy of back home - where he would have to fight to be noticed against his brother, or to be someone’s pride rather than just the second born. He was a man to swear there was method in his madness.

His self-hatred was punishing. Laying in the warmth of his bed, eyes fighting to stay open as dawn threatened his eyes. He simply winced, gruffed and rolled over. Sure, the position was not as comfortable, but it was warm. The scent of his home lingering - the scent of him. Sometimes, he doubted if he belonged even with his pack, with his family. But it was a stupid thought he would always brush off for something else that he would get mad over - something that would push him to get over himself, something that would fuel anger into himself to be better at something that anyone else would be.

And sometimes he would lay there - thinking to one of the very few people who he learned had seen him for him. You were a confusing masterpiece to him - an enigma that had him wrapped so tightly around your finger that he would find himself in your room, crying into your sheets while you attended classes that he would either skip or just not have.

Because you had seen him, because for once in his life - he was someone’s first place.