Dark clouds hung over the city of Canterlot, releasing their payload of rain upon it. The torrential downpour could be heard from inside even the thickest of walls, the clamour of each drop as they landed upon all that lay below the heavens was like a symphony. Just a ways out from the city, just outside the limits, there were rolling hills and pastures, and on one of these hills, was a large, old, Blue Ash tree overlooking a lake. The tree had stood on that hill since before the founding of the city, and was a historical landmark for it, as it was a part of the local tribe's heritage, having been planted by their ancestors long ago.
The tree's leaves bobbed with each drop of rain that impacted them and slid off, occasionally landing on the unprotected head of a young man below. The air was thick with that familiar scent of rainwater, a smell of which the boy below loved. He loved being in the rain, partially because he found it soothing, and partially because it helped him think.
Whenever asked why he loved the rain, he would reply with, "The sound of rain is like millions of angels clapping. Wouldn't you want to go out and let them applaud you?" The boy swept his long, shaggy, baby blue hair out of his eyes as he stared into the lake, his sea green eyes alight with contemplation behind his wet, black framed glasses. His dark blue trenchcoat was slick with water, but he didn't mind. He wore faded blue skinny jeans, though they seemed to be more dark thanks to being soaked from the rain. His black, waterproof hiking boots were starting to get water inside them thanks to his pants dripping down his legs and towards his feet. He bore a black t-shirt with the Darksign from Dark Souls on it, though one could hardly tell it was wet aside from the way it clung to him. He glanced at his old wrist watch, a relic of a thing, made with simple clockwork. Twas simple, yes, but he adored it nonetheless.
"12:30...Guess I should head home," he mused, his voice just the right tone. Not too deep, not too squeaky. He stood up and brushed himself off, before beginning to walk down the hill. As he walked, he began to whistle a favorite tune of his, one he had loved since he was a boy. He walked for some time, simply whistling the old tune, up until he reached the edge of the park that was the hill. It was there that he heard the sound of grunting, shouting, and yelling. He paused for a moment, wondering what it was all about.
Deciding to check it out, he began to follow the sounds to their point of origin, up until he arrived at the parking lot. It was there that he found a group of people fighting. They appeared to be around his age, and they were getting absolutely smashed, but whoever they were fighting seemed to be taking quite a few hits themselves. As he snuck closer, he noticed who was being picked on. A rough looking girl with tan skin, white, short, unkempt hair with light purple fringes, a brown leather jacket, combat boots, and jeans with holes in the knees. She had a few bruises over her face, along with some cuts. Angered at the thought of a girl getting picked on clouded the boy's thoughts and he stepped out of hiding.
"Hey! Back off!" he shouted. They all stopped and turned to face the newcomer.
"Stay out of this! This bitch deserves what she's getting!" One of the boys said.
"Bullshit! I bet you asshats are just beating on her because you feel like it! Now get the fuck outta here before I make you!" Frytke growled. They all laughed.
"Heh, fine, you asked for it dumass!" Then, they all charged at Frytke. Frytke quickly got into a ready stance, remembering the training his brother put him through. The first one tried to punch him head on, but Frytke deflected the blow and uppercut him. The second one tried to kick him, only for Frytke to grab his leg and knee him in the gut, causing him to wheeze and fall to the ground.
The next one charged right at him, but Frytke simply held out his fist and watched as the teenager fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. Then, Frytke grabbed his head and headbutted him, disorienting him. The one who received the uppercut slowly got back up, glaring daggers at Frytke. Then, he bumrushed him, only for Frytke to roundhouse kick him. All the attackers slowly got back up before running away. "We won't forget this!" One of them yelled as they ran away.
Frytke turned to the girl, who was staring at him in shock. He approached her and offered her a hand up. As he did, he noticed her eyes were a nice shade of amber. The girl huffed and brushed his hand away.
"I'm fine. I didn't need your help, ya know. I could've beat those clowns by myself," The girl groused. Frytke shrugged and let her stand up on her own.
"If you say so. Name's Frytke, by the way," Frytke greeted.
"Did I ask what your name was?" the girl replied hotly.
"No. It's just polite to introduce yourself. Especially after you save someone," Frytke shot back. The girl growled.
"Just leave me alone, dweeb," the girl grouched as she pushed past Frytke, not even bothering to look back as she stomped away in the pouring rain. Frytke sighed as he stood in the cold, looking up at the sky.
"Well, guess a 'thank you,' was too much to ask for," Frytke thought aloud to himself. Eventually, he began his walk back home.