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Xephos had always admired RidgeDog. The dapper gentleman seemed to be eternally composed and yet humming with restrained power. His body glowed with energy. He was the sort of fellow who was pleasant to you because you were nice, and you were pleasant to because his body sang with power and you knew he could tear your body apart atom by atom. You also got that slight inkling that he kind of wanted to.
Rythian was hollow. He was not empty, but he was hollow. His power cursed through him, limitless, powerful, but it left him deprived, took something from him that he had not noticed he was losing. His power was immense, a deeply rooted source of energy that flowed from his soul.
She loved the sky just as much as he did. Perhaps that is what drew him to her in the first place. In a world of hole diggers and dirt lovers, she flew. Of course others had brushed the realm of clouds, the scientists with fire and jet fuel thrusting them forward and the mages with magic lifting them skyward, but none lived for the sky as she did. As he did.
She loved the sky, the clouds, and she loved the owls that joined her there. And she loved him. Through the terrors the night brought, through the scars he bore without explanation, through the pain, and fear, and confusion, she loved him.
A friend of Ridge's they assumed. This new Derpulies could only really be someone their crazy neighborhood demigod had brought in to train or share with or whatever he did. Derpulies was a bit more benevolent, with less pummeling and more SHAME. Not that they weren't pummeled often enough too. But Ridge, despite his love of death match showdowns, was a friend-of sorts. Derpulies was someone to be listened to-he did have a 'cage of shame'-but laughed at, with his silly name, hopeless assistant, and terrible rhymes. Yeah, Derpulies definitely belonged to Ridge. Didn't matter of course that they hadn't actually seen Ridge in a while, it could only really be him. Right?