Callahan 'Cal' Beck

Male | 18 | New Rider

Mentions: Other Riders, Open

---

Nothing could have prepared Callahan Beck for such a day. While he knew it was happening and why, he still felt unprepared. Cal wasn't one to feel nervous about things, but this - this made him anxious. For some reason, it was all that was on his mind. His hands were clenched with dread and excitement. Hopefulness and sacredness peered through his hazel eyes. At a glance, one could say that Callahan was experiencing something different for once, but it wasn't stepping out of his comfort zone that was killing him.

It was his differences.

He was sure most of those going to the Academy would be rich and have posh clothing, clean hair, not a speck of dirt to be found on them. Their shoes would be polished hours prior to arriving. Their hair would be done in the way that the nobility get it done. Their embroidered and hand-made clothes would be grand, everyone complementing one another and not judging (at least not in a way that was obvious).

Then There was Callahan Beck. Six foot three, dirty skin, cuts all over his arms and forearms, his clothes raggedy and dirty. His hair was greasy even though he had washed it. A light stubble outlined his face. His bags were definitely noticeable now — this day was frightening him. Perhaps he was fearing the wrong thing. Dragons were to be scared of, no? Cal had always dreamed of dragons. Dreamed of flying. Today, that just might come true.

But of course, there was no guarantees. Anything could happen today. All Cal knew was that he would at least be able to say that he had the chance of witnessing a dragon's terrifying beauty. The thought made him scoff to himself.

"Cal!" A voice called. A strong voice, though that a feminine tone. Callahan huffed softly, grabbing his wool cloak from his unmade bed. He came around the corner, seeing his mother standing there.

"When do you leave?" Moira asked, turning to look at her eldest son. Callahan had gave a slightly unsure shrug.

"Soon I suppose," He responded. Moira didn't make any eye contact with him, the fear of letting her child go into a possible death sentence frightening her. The thought made her feel ill. She nodded.

"Here," she said, handing him some sandwiches that were neatly wrapped in a soft cloth. "For the road," she added. Callahan took them and gave a half-smile, allowing himself to shift his weight on his feet.

"Where's Ryker and Oona?" He asked for his younger siblings.

"In the village. I asked that they bring back something for you," Moira replied, looking up at her son. She smiled softly.

"They don't have to-"

"But they will," the older woman cut him off. She scoffed. "Let them. This may be the last time they see you," She added softly.

Callahan didn't have much else to say. He gave a very light, almost forced chuckle. He had taken a seat at the table, his mother pouring him some beverage into the cup. He hasn't requested it, but he knew that a habit of his mother's was her cooking or baking. Serving people was a part of that.

After what seemed like a few hours, the door bursted open. "Callie!" Oona called. Callahan smiled, peeking around the corner from his seat. His younger sister came rushing over, holding something tight in her hand. He picked her up, placing her gently on his lap.

"Hi, little wolf," Callahan smiled widely. Ryker came around the corner, holding nothing in his hands. Moira gave an unsure glance, almost questioning if the brother cared wether or not his brother was departing.

"Here," Oona said excitedly. Opening his palm, Oona placed a necklace in it with a small blue stone. Callahan took it, examining it for a moment before he looked at Oona.

"Thank you," he said. He slipped it into his pocket, noting that he would wear it just for her even if they wouldn't see each other again. Callahan stood up, setting Oona down. He approached Ryker.

Ryker was fifteen with dark hair and a lean, skinny build. Callahan gave a sympathetic smile towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was obvious Ryker had felt bad about not managing to get something for Callahan. Cal shook his head.

"Brother, I leave you my sword." Cal looked at Ryker dead in the eyes. The young man shook his head.

"What? No-" Ryker began protesting.

"Yes. Listen. You are the man of the house now. I've taught you what I can. You help mother with the baking, help Oona with whatever she asks. You will be a great blacksmith. Better than dad," Callahan smiled, feeling the tears forming in his eyes. Ryker looked down, shaking his head.

Callahan cupped his brothers face. He pulled him in, giving a light kiss on his head. Oona came over, hugging his waist and holding on so tight it made Callahan want to just back out. He gave a small laugh, few tears coming out of his eyes before he kissed his mother on the cheek and said his farewells to everyone before grabbing his cloak and food and heading out the door.

---

The ride to the valley was quiet. Callahan had replayed most - if not all - memories of him and his family. His father. His mother. His brother. His sister. He prayed that this wouldn't be his last day for encountering these beasts. This is what he had been waiting for most of his life though.

Callahan hummed softly, dismounting his horse and grabbing his very few belongings. He could see other fellow students in the Valley, which he began walking that way.

Hopefully today would not be his last.

Desmodus Draculae

Male Primal Dragon || Rider: Anatolious Rosenberg || M: (Dir) None. (Ind) Anatolious.

~

Desmodus' wings flapped with a mixture of boredom and laziness. He dreaded the time when he'd have to teach other dragons and humans how to do what they're supposed to do. He really desired to return to his beloved cave that was in the middle of his wonderful, dark forest (No no, not Warrior Cats). Most of all, he was dreading having to teach with Anatolious of all humans out there. Yes, he meant the little mongrel that hung to his tail for the past few years. Freedom was no longer an option now that his mind and soul was bound to that disgusting little fiend for the remainder of his life, and he was also forced to keep the thing if he didn't want to live depressed for the rest of his life. The creature had been clinging to him for so long, and now it was getting utterly exhausting to keep up with, especially now that he was going to have to train others, and now there were going to be other dragons biting his tail every moment he tries to sleep.

Desmodus let out a loud hiss as his dove down into the cover of the trees, feeling the branches tear at his wings as if they wanted to hurt his wings so he couldn't fly. The branches obviously did nothing to him since he has a thick coat of fur protecting his skin, and his wing patagiums were too thick to be torn by something as weak and stupid as a branch. The benefit of having fur was great, but the disadvantage of having fur was horrible. The leaves had always gotten tangled inside his thick fur and they were almost impossible to get out. Not even the wind that was blowing all over him managed to get any leaves off, a d he wasn't going to make his first appearance covered in leaves and brambles. "Hey Anatolious, I'm gonna stop to get some leaves out, so don't freak out if I don't make it to the ceremony on time." After he said that with his grumpy and rude tone, he made an abrupt stop in his flight and dove down to the ground, his wings folded tightly against his sides to help keep the branches out. It didn't really work, but it was easier to dive that way, so he just kept them against his sides.

When he was close to the ground, Desmodus reached his hind legs out for the safest possible landing he could make. His large paws thumped heavily down on grass, making a loud thud mixed with the crunching of grass. He could feel a few branches that managed to poke deep into his fur rubbing against his skin, causing irritation rather than pain like someone might think. His skin is very thick, but not unable to be pierced through. Something like a branch wouldn't hurt him, but a literal steel sharpened spear definitely would, and it would a lot. Des twisted his neck around and began plucking the branches out if his fur. There was a lot less than it felt when he looked, causing him to grunt in annoyance. He stopped to pluck only like seven branches out of his fur. He grabbed another branch and yanked it out with force, even accidentally snapping the branch in his jaws. Then, he grabbed two in a big clump before throwing them at a tree, watching them break in half; the crunch was delightful for some strange reason. The leaves, thankfully, were all attached to the branches, so he didn't have to pluck out each individual leaf from his fur. Today was his lucky day, wasn't it?

After a few minutes of grooming, he managed to get each leaf out of his fur. It was quite relieving to not have to feel the branches and leaves poke his pelt and tear at his wings while he just tried to peacefully get to the smelly expanse where the ceremony took place. One leaf had managed to get stuck behind his ear, but it's gonna be his new style now. It was lodged perfectly in his fur so that if he moved his ears or if the wind blew through his fur, it wouldn't fall out, but it wasn't poking into his skin and bothering him. "Yesss, my new style is fabulous." The primal dragon spoke like you would guess a snake would, hissing at the end of each word as if he was trying to sound menacing and dangerous, even though nobody was around. He started to comb his fur with his claws as if he was in a rush to be somewhere, except he actually kind of is rushing to the stupid ceremony. He wanted to have a good first appearance at the ceremony so no one thinks that he's abnormal or something.

Then, with a smirk of pleasure on his face, Desmodus stepped out of the forest. He didn't want to take flight in the forest again, because that would only mess his fur up again. He could faintly see the ceremony in the distance, and to his delight, very few dragons were actually there. He knew that there would be more coming, but at least it would be quiet in the beginning. "Alright. I'm done cleaning my fur and now I'm heading for the ceremony. See you there." He was so tempted to call Anatolious a fiend at the end, but he didn't want to scare the stupid guy away, because then he'd feel guilty about it and he'd have to apologize, and frankly, apologizing is probably the hardest thing he could do. The dragon's wings began to spread open as he prepared to begin flight since he seemed a good distance away from the forest. After a few moments of just flapping his wings, his hind legs helped propel him into the air. The hardest struggle in flight is to get off the ground, and he wanted to be a safe distance away from the floor in case anything happened. His wings flapped aggressively as he forced himself up into the air, a gutteral grunt of annoyance escaping his throat.

Desmodus watched at the dragons and crowd of tiny humans got easier and easier to see; every second being only fuel to his foul attitude. He dreaded the moment he'd have to train those annoying, worthless creatures how to do what they're supposed to do. They should teach themselves. I'm going back to bed after. The dragon's crotchetiness was clear in his demeanor and face, giving most the idea to stay away because he's grumpy. The crowd was only getting bigger every moment he spent flying, causing him to swiften up his pace. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion; a yawn escaping his large jaws. I can just close my eyes for a second... His eyes slid closed and a sigh of relief emitted from his jaws, causing some of his ghastly attitude to wither away.

Next minute, Desmodus was plummeting from the sky. He'd fallen asleep mid air, but luckily he woke up right after he started falling down. Acting quickly, he began to violently flap his wings around as he spiraled down from the sky, straight towards the ceremony. He was not about to fall on someone, since that would make a horrible first impression. Wait- my style! The leaf in his ear had fallen out right as he throught that, giving him enough time to grab it before it blew away. Yesss, my wonderful style has been saved. Then, he returned to intensely flapping his wings to try and stop himself from falling. The ground was getting closer and closer, and he just couldn't stop himself from falling. He let out a loud screech before he slammed face first into the ground, twisting his neck awkwardly.

The primal dragon tumbled around against the ground, more worried about his poor aching neck after that weird twist. Desmodus stretched out his wings, grabbing onto the ground and abruptly stopping his tumbling, and he manged to stand up again as if nothing happened. My style. He took the leaf and slipped it back in his thick, messy fur, making sure to get it lodged in so that it wouldn't fall out. "I have arrived, Anatolious." He sure did hope the human didn't see that he fell asleep mid air, because then he might never be able to forget about it for the remainder of his life. Wait a second... He could feel the tug between him and his human, and it was not leading towards the ceremony like he though it was. After a huff of annoyance, he turned his head in the direction of Ana, which was leading somewhere else. "Hurry up Anatolious!" He wasn't even sure if his rider could hear him or not, but he didn't want to be the only mentor sitting here without their rider present.

_____________

The silence at the dinner table was deafening - his mother coolly sipped on her tea, while his father absentmindedly buttered a biscuit. The young male couldn't help but scowl, a rare expression on his usually sleepy facial features. He could barely even pick at the food on his plate, and that's when he heard the soft click of a teacup meeting it's plate. And then the soft sigh of his mother who looked at him with a simple expression : worry. And he could feel his own bubbling annoyance die down at the sight. His mothers thin fingers slowly tapped at the table, while her face wrinkled in a soft concentration. His mother's stormy eyes, laid in concentration and thought - and she looked at her husband, his soft pale blue eyes looking at his wife with love and care. And the two seemed to have a silent conversation, and Ahura could feel his heart race and his breath hitch at the sight. It seemed his parents were actually considering his request, and he could only pray to the gods that they actually allowed him to go and appreciate the ceremony - and actually participate.

"Son," his father began, his voice uncommonly gentle, "I worry for your safety if you are to be chosen by one of those grand beasts. You have a rather weak immune system, and it takes so much as a cold wind to get you sick. And you my dear boy, ignore your sickness, until it gets worse and then you have to be forced to even rest. It's admirable that you're such a hard worker, but it's to the detriment of yourself - can you at least promise, me, and your mother that you will take strict care of your health if you are chosen to train?"

His mother nodded in agreement, and she held her husband's hands. Ahura could see his mother shaking a bit, she must've been terribly worried and against this decision. But his father had managed to gain her approval. So Ahura gave a soft sight, "Father, I humbly thank you for this opportunity to go to the Ceremony. And if I am blessed to be chosen as Future Rider, then I will make sure to take care of my health father, and mother. I will do better at not being so stubborn about my work and take more care of myself." He said earnestly, and he looked at his parents for approval. And he could hear the defeated sigh of his mother, and she gave him a soft and gentle smile.

"Oh, my dear boy, how I wish I didn't give you my frail immune system. Otherwise, I wouldn't be so apprehensive about sending you to such an Acadmey. But, you have made me a promise, and I know you wouldn't break your promise to me." And she gave a couple soft coughs, and a older maid, Claudia was her name had quickly came to her aide.

"My Lady, you've been straining yourself these past couple days. I must insist you come and rest now." The maid said softly in a hushed tone, like that of a worried mother. And she silently helped the Lady of the House up out of her seat. And Ahura couldn't help but think his mother looked regal, even though sick. A woman standing at a tall stature of 5'10, with curly fiery vermillion curls that rested at her shoulders. And a bright emerald green dress that hugged her form, and determined stormy grey eyes that just gave her an air of power - unrivaled by most women. Though he has sad to see her look thinner than usual and the bags were becoming more noticeable under her eyes.

"I won't let you down Mother." Ahura promised with a soft tone of voice, and he stood up and gave his mother a half bow. And he was happy to see it had gained a smile from her as she was escorted out.

"So how are you getting to the Ceremony?" His father asked between bites of his food, and then wiping his mouth, he looked to Ahura for an answer.

"I'll be riding Tartagila" he replied simply, and his father gave his nod of approval.

"Ill never know how you tamed that beast, but you stay out of trouble and ride safely - alright." His father said gruffly, and he had to give a soft giggle, but he nodded in respect of his father.

_____________

The young male had quite the long ride to the place of Ceremony. He got off his horse with the elegance of someone of his standing, and quickly he tied his horse to the free post. And he brushed off his clothing. He was sure that he was overdressed, but his mother had made a suggestion if he had been chosen, and he couldn't deny her. He wore a white poet's blouse, with a dark red and golden vest - paired with black riding pants and boots. His hair was in a ponytail held together by a simple red ribbon, something common of upper class male youths. And he had began making his way through the ceremony. He weaved and slunk his way through the crowd and soon he was actually in the Valley. And he was actually going to see dragons, up close, and personal.

That's when he spotted him. And he stared for a second, contemplating if he should go over an at least be civil with the other boy. After all they had once been good friends, but that was blurred out by the feeling of betrayal and hurt considering their history together. The male had left without even saying anything to him, or even caring that he had gotten sick after their last altercation. And he couldn't help but stare in confusion and contemplation about he male. And he wondered which one of them would make the actual first move between them.