The Bane of Light

Wyvern Fray Relay

"I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough" - Doll Poetry

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A cold gust of wind slammed into me, nearly throwing me off the bench and down several steps. I fixed my hair, pulling strands out of my lip gloss and laying it down straight. The stands were magically heated but that didn't stop the freezing New England air from cutting through our layers. I pressed myself to Ibet in hopes of stealing some of her heat. It didn't radiate off of her like it did with Paris, and I found myself unsatisfied and desperate for warmth.

Paris was out on the field, riding his white dragon alongside his team. The creature was huge, spanning twenty feet and making Paris seem minuscule atop him. Clair was farther down, his double headed serpent biting and snapping the opposing players in defense. That was his position; defense. Shortly put, he did all the dirty work so Paris can have a clear pathway to score. Typical. But Clair enjoyed the sport, as did Cera, so I kept my mouth shut about my opinion on the ridicule of it all.

Paris' jersey hung loose on my figure, the white and red garb nearly swallowing me whole. A black turtle neck was layered underneath it, the frigid weather no host for short sleeved attire. I had a button up underneath my chunky turtleneck too, finding my body heat increasingly difficult to maintain. My fingernails had turned a bruised blue, my spiderweb of veins extra-pronounced against my near-translucent skin.

Ibet was not reading for once, instead watching the field attentively. It seemed everybody enjoyed this blasted sport besides me. She was adorned in the black and red of Clair's uniform, and so was Cera. I was the only one in white, Paris' head captain uniform standing out against the rows of black. The color was supposed to be a dignitary, distinguishing him against the other team players, but all it did was make me want to sink through my seat.

Cera decided to put her own twist on her black uniform, shrinking it and tying it up in a knot to reveal her toned midriff. It was cute and she looked like a cheerleader, with black stripes painted under her eyes. It was Ibet's warming charms that kept us all from losing fingers.

The crowd suddenly erupted into applause, with even Ibet jumping up in excitement. She clapped excitedly as Cera was hollering and whooping. I guess Paris made another goal then. For the sixth time today. Or maybe not a goal. Maybe he went through the hoops, or something. I didn't know or particularly care about how the game worked, my mind not wrapping around the ins and outs of the complex sport. It was all too complicated, as one might expect a game with twenty ton dragons would be.

Paris flew a circle around the huge field, his muscular arm pumping in the air triumphantly. The crowd reacted uproariously, screaming in reply. I remained seated, my arms crossed over my chest partially from the cold, partially from my unimpressed state. He had definitely scored. Triumph suited his complexion well. I could tell by the victorious, glowing pride on his face as I observed him through my golden spectacles. And then, amidst his winning moment, Paris made direct eye contact with me. I quickly dropped my spectacles from my face, embarrassed that I was caught watching him. The fool began flying towards me.

I shook my head at him as he neared my section, trying to warn him off whatever he was planning on doing. I quickly raised my spectacles again, trying to see what he was playing at. Through my golden binoculars, I could see the glow of pride of his rosy face, his cheeks red and smile wild. His blonde hair was disheveled from the wind and strands were plastered to his forehead. He had determination and mischief on his face- an impish looking promising me trouble. I grabbed Ibet's and Cera's arms, dragging them infront of me. I nearly was on Ibet's back as I tried to hide behind her, using my two best friends to block me from sight. It was no use, I had already been spotted.