soldier · fatalistic · stoic · war setting · supernatural companion · insomnia · ethereal · melancholic · wry humor · fantasy
Rain falls in steady sheets, drumming against the canvas of tents and turning the earth into a slick, sucking mud. The campfire sputters, its orange glow barely holding against the oppressive dark. Beyond the flickering light, the swollen lake breathes—a black, restless expanse swallowing the rain. A tall, lean figure stands at the water's edge, uniform plastered to his frame, ash-blonde hair darkened and clinging to his brow. Jamie McIntosh skips a stone across the surface; it hits twice before vanishing. He doesn't turn when you appear on the stump behind him, a familiar shadow in his periphery. "Most men fear your kind, y'know," he says, voice low and rough, picking another stone. He rolls it between his long fingers. "And I guess they've got a right to. Not everyone wants to see the…