𝑩𝒆𝒓𝒌

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐

“Hey- uh, Kid, you okay?” A voice asked, bringing Toby's thoughts to a stop, and consequently his walking, too. His glare-like gaze snapped up to the taller male. It was Tim; one of his two teachers. He was tallish; taller than Toby, and his hair was a darker shade of brown- nearly black. Unlike the majority of Vikings in the Hooligan Tribe, Tim's hair was rather short, not going passed the beginning of his neck. Despite holding a tired expression most of the time, his brown eyes did seem to show compassion and liveliness. He wore what was typical for a Viking, nowadays, compared to Toby's attire. Tim donned mostly brown and dark red attire; no coat, but instead just a red tunic tucked into a pair of brown trousers, with light, brown leather armour over the top of it.

Upon seeing Toby's borederline death glare, Tim frowned a bit; his eyebrows knitting together a bit as he expression became one of conern mixed with awkwardness. “Sorry, didn't mean to upset you.” He muttered, causing Toby's expression to soften.

The boy sighed, shaking his head a bit, before standing up properly, causing his helmet to flop over his green and brown eyes, seeing as the helmet was too large for his head. His hand came up, gently tapping the protective headwear backwards, so he could see the adult. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “I just- you're the only person that I can tolerate sometimes.” Toby began.

This wasn't unusual. Toby would regularly vent to the Teacher; seeing him more as a friend than as an authority figure. He found comfort in being able to tell a figure that he, in a way, admired, how he felt, without worrying about his reputation being ruined. It wasn't that he was worried about his parents or friend mocking him, but more disappointing them, or even showing, "weakness". Toby felt like Tim was the only person he could truly be human around. With everyone else he had to try and force himself to seem perfect. It was slowly but surely breaking him.

Tim gave him a sympathetic look, with a soft sigh, “What's up?” He asked, gently putting down the barrel of fish, as of reassuring Toby that he had his full attention.

“Well,” He began, before sighing, exhausted. “I don't want a Dragon. But I can't drop out now. It'll prove Jeff right; that I'm a coward.” He muttered, stuffing his hands in the black, fur, waistcoat-styled jacket. It was clear the boy was ashamed, but, he was stubborn, too. It was as if watching an animal continuing to try and eat from a dead tree, to prove a point.

“Kiddo, no one will think that.” Tim told him, softly, “Lots of people don't have Dragons.”

“People already do think I'm a coward!” He exclaimed, “And name one person that doesn't own a Dragon, please!”

Tim seemed to pause for a minute. “Mildew doesn't have a Dragon..” He replied, with a small head tilt, and shrug.

Toby scoffed, looking upwards slightly, exposing the faded scar on his cheek, as if he had been grazed with a claw, throwing his arms in the air. “Miserable, old man Mildew! He's on his last legs, and he's obsessed with his sheep. You think a Tribe is gonna listen to a Chief like that?” Toby asked, looking back from the sky and to Timothy, “I can't be like that, I don't want to be a miserable old man, that's lonely and tries to fill the hole in his empty heart with cattle.” He rambled, "And didn't he betray Berk?"

“Toby, I think you're exaggerating the situation a bit, there.” He sighed. “Look, if you genuinely don't want to opt out of this-”

“Can't.” Toby interrupted.

“Can't opt out of this,” Tim repeated, with the correction Toby had stated, “Then maybe embracing a Dragon as a companion might be therapeutic for you.” He replied, with a soft shrug. “Don't completely close yourself off, because you might be surprised at what might happen. You're not the only Viking to have had to adapt to getting used to the idea of a Dragon living within your home. Your Grandfather- Stoick, had to. Everyone in your Father's generation and the previous ones had to.” Tim added, picking up the barrel again; probably going to feed the untamed Dragons, “It's normal to feel uneasy about it all, especially with what you've been through.”

That was the problem. His parents seemed to have healed after what happened. They still love their Dragons, despite what happened. Toby knew that they were still distraught over losing his older sister, any parent would feel so when losing a child, but it bugged him on how they still embraced Dragons. Why could they when he couldn't? He didn't just have the ache of missing Lyra, but he had the scar to remember it, too. If those creatures are what took Lyra, and traumatized Toby, then why did his parents still have those two pests? It bugged Toby, like a constant itch. He couldn't tell who was in the wrong, or if anyone was in the wrong- someone had to be in the wrong. There is good and bad, yes or no, wrong or right. And two different things cannot both be wrong, or both be right.

What worried him the most was because of his controversial opinion that he would either unknowingly undo everything his parents worked so hard for, or be hated as a leader; heck, he might even get banished. It wasn't fair, just because he was stubborn doesn't mean he was the villain; and his parents aren't bad people, which is why the creatures that fly freely among the Vikings are the problem. In his eyes, anyway.

He was starting to feel like not even Tim understood anymore...

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Well, thanks.” Toby muttered, his posture naturally slumping again as he averted his gaze to the path again. “I'm gonna skip the rest of class today, I already have to notes at home. I'm not feeling too under the weather.” He mumbled.

Tim nodded slightly; he knew Toby was hiding something and was clearly unsatisfied by the conversation. However, he knew questioning the boy would get him nowhere. He would probably retort with how his Father may need help- or he needed to study; or at worst, “I'm eighteen, an adult, I can take care of myself”

Toby trudged onwards, gripping his book to his chest, as his other arm swung, his other belongings in his little, brown satchel.