From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Kronk couldn’t help but be excited. He had found a home, or at least, he had been invited to one. Soon he would be attending meetings, training beside his Gatemates, and forging bonds of loyalty through blood and battle.
At least, he hoped so.
Kronk was disciplined enough to keep his nervousness from his face and body. His legs didn’t shake, his lips didn’t quiver, his brow did not furrow. He was here to do a job, and as long as he fulfilled that duty, he had done what he needed. The finding of comrades, the adventure, all of that had to be second. But, while Kronk was disciplined enough not to show his nervousness, his eagerness, he was not a stony as his face would suggest.
He was so excited.
Hastily, Kronk clamped down on his enthusiasm. He couldn’t give way to recklessness, not even reckless joy, especially on his first day. Instead, he would check in with his superiors, and begin the task of being the best he could be. It was a daunting task, yes, but it was the duty of every solider to achieve it. And if Kronk was anything, he was a good solider. Wichita had been good enough to bring him here, he would not live to see her regret it.
Photograph by Vivacqua