Dedric Hale {D2}

When he is here he can taste ash between his teeth.

The house still stands. It's painted black with soot, decorated with holes and missing chunks, riddled with the odor of dust, dirt and smoke, and haunted by the screams of the innocents that had burned within its walls. It was the Hale house - a house, where a family should be allowed to feel safe and secure. It was secluded private property, well away from the center of the district and closer instead to the boundaries, where the buzzing electric fence was only a few minutes walk. Trekking to the District Square had always been tedious, but not unwelcome to a family infamously known for worshiping wolves as members of an old, faded religion. Dedric Hale had never been a true part of that piece of family history, but everyone thought he was.

People are always wrong.

It was because of the Argent family. Damn them, damn them all to the jaws of whatever canine ancestors my parents thought existed, and damn them to Hell if that exists too. They thought - still think, as far as he knows - that their traditions entailed violence. They have a ridiculous impression that the Hales tamed wild wolves and used them to prey on the innocent, all because they lost a family member to one of these beasts of the moonlight. Don't they understand that wild animals do wild things? Wolves don't need commands to rip human throats like tissue paper; wander into their territory and they'll do as they please. Dedric wishes he could say the same about his family, but they had burned in the comforts of their own home.

Living in solitude isn't easy after losing everything. Career training lost its meaning, connections vanished, and the last remains of money was spent quickly before Dedric had kick-started his motivation. Now he is on a path again. He isn't sure if it's his own or if it's meant to be, but it's a path, and it's a hell of a lot better than wandering aimlessly like a fool. Purpose, it turns out, is hard to find, but easy to maintain once given successful consequences. He may have lost everything, but they haven't. His students. They're all deprived of a common privilege: career training. Families with fortune afford it best, and take pride in their aging little warriors. Dedric is one of them, but he never preferred the training academies. Too many people, all too competitive and too irritating. They challenge him only because of his intimidating build. He's tall, bulky, always wearing some form of a frown or scowl. A formidable opponent, but they can go to hell for not leaving him alone.

Some of his students don't really belong. Jairus, for example, is a wealthy, greedy, jealous bastard with a nasty attitude, and Dedric suspects that he is too strong of a perfectionist to be completely stable. It's really fucking annoying, honestly, because he's haughty and rash and not even underprivileged. He invited himself into what everyone likes to call Dedric's "pack" - the dysfunctional handful of teenagers he offered help to because he thinks everyone deserves the opportunity to train. The Hunger Games are very real, and to those who don't know how to swing his/her own fist let alone a sword he can only imagine how frightening it is.

He sighs and turns his back on the disheveled house. He craves the feeling of nostalgia but all he can sense is the bitter flavor of ash on his tongue. It's an illusion - he knows it - yet it still repels him. He shouldn't even be here. He should be at the loft, where his students will be waiting for him. Those damn teenagers. Technically he's a teenager too; he's only eighteen, after all, but he has the mentality of somebody much older, the maturity of his mother and the memories of somebody who would ideally be dead rather than still alive and suffering at such a young age. Eighteen, damn it, and yet he can sense tragedy from some of his students as they channel their anger and hormones into training. Some of them have already suffered, and he hates it. They're too young, just as he was when his family had burned. He hopes that maybe his training will save them from torment someday.

He isn't daring enough to call them his "friends." Or trustworthy enough for that matter. He can still sense traces of anxiety when he walks into the room flaunting a frown coated in stubble and a wrinkled forehead above thick eyebrows. He wonders if they trust him at all, or if they're wary of his every move. He wonders if they believe the rumors about his family. He wonders how long they will actually stay until they decide it's time to depart, and time for him to search for new students. He may not like all of them, but he certainly doesn't hate them. Soren is powerful, Miles has potential, Alita learns suspiciously quickly, Liela is intelligent, Jairus is vicious, Icarus is devoted, Erin is spunky and Vance is collected. All have their strengths and weaknesses. All are just simple teenagers who need a bit of help - even Jairus, admittedly, who focuses so much on other's opinions that his strength falters. That's why Dedric found them and started this whole thing. Some of them were not invited Jairus, Miles, looking at you two but they were not unwelcome as long as they followed his rules and listened to his feedback. He won't go as far as saying they're like friends or family, but they're company. They're the only company he's had in years, and the only company he'll ever have.

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