#roserider

@mediumofthestars

@nuvoles

@tailented

@fourmouthed

@fourmouthed

@fcvetailed

@bxsiliisk

@heartofiop

@purredator

@sparklingemeraldidol

@furumetal

@aneerietale 

@salvationsorc

@delxeo

@antheiin

@promosis

@wanderingproteinwolf

@fiskarnaros

@roserider

@strayxiii

@flight-lost

“Are you doing something kind of heroic for once? Wow! I’m really proud of you!”

WHY IS EVERYONE ALWAYS FIGHTING? I THINK IT’S MUCH EASIER TO GET ALONG

“Rider... Do you need a hug? Because you really look like it.”

             The third time he was transported to another location without much of a choice within this experiment, he found that he was nearly fully accustomed to such an occurrence. There wasn’t nearly as much distress this time; rather, he found his thoughts trailing not to his own safety, but the safety of others. He wondered if that kind doctor was going to be alright now that the threat level of the environment had soared, or if the strange magus girl was able to tend to her wounds properly now that all limitations have been temporarily lifted for the purpose of exterminating the invaders—and there was always Rider, whom he hadn’t seen even once since the beginning of the incident.

             Surely, Rider was fine on his own, and Sieg would only be a burden to Rider should they cross paths and establish a partnership once again. In the first place, Sieg felt that the reason he kept seeking out Rider was thanks to a persistent dependency on Rider for security and reassurance, like an anxious child who dared not face anything without the company of their best friend. Staying together with Rider forever was impossible, he knew that, so he should give his all into improving independency—however, that lingering feeling of wanting to be beside Rider would not perish. It felt troubling. Should he run from Rider the next time he sees him? Maybe avoidance would be a decent place to start with.

With Sieg in the city, it seemed only a matter of time before she ran into Rider. It was only natural, or so Mordred thought. Where one was, the other seemed only a few steps behind. Inseparable, like a man and his shadow, like lovers, or two halves of a perfect whole. It was sickeningly sweet.

So, there was Rider -- that pink paladin, with the huge mouth and the constant grin. And there was Mordred, a few steps behind him, nerf bat in hand. What was the best way to go about this, exactly? A swift hit on the head. A choke hold. Ah, the options unfurled before her like a grand map -- each terrible, each equally fun.

Eventually, Mordred decides on the best route: a swift kick to Rider’s behind.

     He responds promptly to excited knocking at his apartment door. When he opens it, he’s met with a head of the softest pink, and knows his visitor at that exact moment.