Another morning came, and with it, sunlight poured through Raiden's curtains like a judgmental spotlight.
Dust motes drifted lazily through the air, betraying the utter stillness of the room — the calm before yet another storm named training.
Kent Goldheart stood by the bedside, arms crossed, staring down at the lump under the blanket. His younger brother hadn't so much as twitched. The boy was sprawled across the bed diagonally, half of one boot still on, the other missing entirely.
Kent sighed. "You slept in your training clothes."
Raiden made a noise that might have been a grunt… or the word 'so?' It was hard to tell.
Kent pinched the bridge of his nose. "You reek of sweat and defeat."
"Mmph," Raiden replied, face buried in the pillow. "Smells like effort."
Kent stared at him for a long moment before giving up. "Fine. Just get up. Wash up. We're training soon."
Raiden lifted his head an inch. "Is Leonard here already?"
"No."
"Then I'm fine."