idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword
Oh. Koa isn't sure what to make of this confession: for him, survival has never been especially hard. Sure, he's lost his mother and has a rough relationship with his father and liked a girl who rejected him and other such things, but in the broader world of hardships and trials? The boy has had it decidedly easy.
But this may be the first time anyone pointed that out.
And now, suddenly, he feels a bit sheepish, newly appreciative for all she's done and accomplished, and how little he truly has to boast about. "Yeah, it's pretty great," Koa agrees almost reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. And then, brightening: "You could come check it out sometime, if you wanted? See what the Dragoons are all about? Everyone would love to have an experienced warrior come by - I know I would." Maybe she'd even consider joining, representing Torchline in their global initiative plans?
"Unarmed, mostly." He raises his hands for her to see: bruised and scarred, strong and calloused, covered with reminders of past fights. "But I've been trying to learn escrima. And all Dragoons have to be proficient with a sword and bow." Not that Koa has ever exceeded the barest line of proficiency with the former, but he can hit a target decently, at decent range. "What about- ow."
It is at this juncture that Pipsqueak opts to appear, adorned in veil of spider silk that turns her dark form bluish grey. She displays no qualms about sharing the love with her bonded, immediately attempting to claw her way up the denim of his jeans and landing more that a couple claw marks before he can scruff her, nose wrinkled at the mess she us. "Gods, Pip, you're filthy," the boy exclaims, earning some eager chatters from his dangling dragon. Shaking his head, he begins to carefully excise webbing from her fur. "This tiny terror is Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak, meet Melita and... sorry, I didn't get your companions names."
But this may be the first time anyone pointed that out.
And now, suddenly, he feels a bit sheepish, newly appreciative for all she's done and accomplished, and how little he truly has to boast about. "Yeah, it's pretty great," Koa agrees almost reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. And then, brightening: "You could come check it out sometime, if you wanted? See what the Dragoons are all about? Everyone would love to have an experienced warrior come by - I know I would." Maybe she'd even consider joining, representing Torchline in their global initiative plans?
"Unarmed, mostly." He raises his hands for her to see: bruised and scarred, strong and calloused, covered with reminders of past fights. "But I've been trying to learn escrima. And all Dragoons have to be proficient with a sword and bow." Not that Koa has ever exceeded the barest line of proficiency with the former, but he can hit a target decently, at decent range. "What about- ow."
It is at this juncture that Pipsqueak opts to appear, adorned in veil of spider silk that turns her dark form bluish grey. She displays no qualms about sharing the love with her bonded, immediately attempting to claw her way up the denim of his jeans and landing more that a couple claw marks before he can scruff her, nose wrinkled at the mess she us. "Gods, Pip, you're filthy," the boy exclaims, earning some eager chatters from his dangling dragon. Shaking his head, he begins to carefully excise webbing from her fur. "This tiny terror is Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak, meet Melita and... sorry, I didn't get your companions names."
koa
