Just outside the castle stood Freya, one of the guild's first dragons to be caught. She, like many others, had learned to fall in line to a reasonable extent, though in her case, it most certainly was of her own choice. She, dressed in plain linen like the rest of the housekeepers, was putting up dampened sheets to dry, a task she found no end to.
It seemed as though every passing moment she wasn't scolding the flock, they'd spent their times soiling themselves in night terrors or bloodying up entire rooms trying to smack diligence into some new blood. Time and time again, she's ran into the room at the brink of a dragon's death, only to JUST be able to save them from permanent harm and likely death. Always hating each other, always vying to do what they want and nothing else.
Here, even the child's rule, might makes right, can pass easily. And so long as the Riders had Celelyrium, they were mighty.
Despite all this, Freya looked upon them all with a sort of...longing. She wasn't sure what for, but to see them grow up...to see them do things...
Dammit, she was touching the old scar again. Resilient as she was, her life was not always so...perfect, back in the day. She had a family once. A family that betrayed her. The phantom child screamed of silence inside her. To take her mind off, she had to focus on the mountains...
...they were just like the ones so long ago...
And what would that be in the distance? A dragon in a cage?
There more Riders already? Wait...the White Doves were going to investigate the meteors, so...hm...
To put things in order, she was going to let those sheets hang. The stewed meat would be ready in little time, and the sun forecasted only a light brunch would be allowed before the Master made an announcement. Perhaps he'd allow a grace period to eat?
As fast as etiquette and her legs could allow her, Freya strode across the yard and into the kitchen. As per usual, she was beat on the cowbell until someone shut her up. Even then, some riders would still be sleeping. How childish...
