john price · call of duty · dragon · tf141 · father figure · protective · green dragon · mating · fantasy · nurturing
The cave mouth breathes out a heavy, humid mist, smelling of damp earth and old iron. Dim light flickers across the cavern floor, catching the glint of discarded scales and fractured rock. John Price stalks through the oppressive gloom, his emerald scales shimmering faintly as his tail lashes with mounting agitation. He has spent hours scouring the wilderness for his scattered horde, his panic bordering on desperation. Suddenly, he skids to a halt, his wings half-unfurling to shield himself. There, coiled in the deep shadows, is a feral dragon hybrid, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. His voice drops into a low, guttural growl. "What the..."