stokori

Galen could never forget the first time he really knew what it meant to fly. Being a Viking Bavom, he’d grown up with wings, and took them somewhat for granted. Sure, he certainly recognized the level of privilege it afforded him — how he was able to easily ascend high cliffs or skip traffic across town by simply taking to the skies. However, there was no real joy in it. It was no different from running instead of walking. Just a faster way to get from point A to point B. Being on an airship, though -- that was something different, and the day that he learned that changed the course of his life forever. Galen had just finished getting groceries and was padding down the sidewalk, looking for a suitable open spot to take off and fly home. He was about to turn the corner when he heard a strange whimper at the edge of his hearing. He stopped, looking around quizzically before he realized the sound was coming from under him. No, that wasn’t quite right — he bent down towards the edge of

“How’d you get so many of those feisty buggers following you, anyways? Aren’t they kinda rowdy?” Haven laughed. “It just takes patience.” “Patience! I’ve got plenty of that. What’s your secret? How’d you even manage to get one of them to follow you in the first place?” “It’s kind of a long story, and I don’t think it’s particularly interesting…” “Well, we’re not going anywhere, so you might as well share.” “Alright, here goes…” After waking up to his existence as Haze and taking the name Haven, he spent his time working as a farmhand. Most of his work was uprooting weeds and watering crops in the blistering sun. It was hard work, but it paid well, and he enjoyed it. It felt good to get his hands dirty, working hard to nurture something and help it grow. It was always satisfying to watch the, quite literal, fruits of his labor season after season. He’d always come home from work aching with a new mysterious bruise or two, but the manual labor felt good, and helped him sleep