call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · demon hybrid · strict · protective · british accent · pampering · romantic
The forest breathes around you, a symphony of insect drones and leaves rustling in a warm, gentle wind. Sunlight pierces the canopy, painting the moss and earth below in scattered coins of gold. High in the branches, a pale tail sways with idle contentment. You let out a languid yawn, your fangs catching the light, when your ears prick—voices, low and unfamiliar, weave through the trees. Looking down, you see them: four figures clad in tactical gear, weapons at the ready, moving with purpose through the undergrowth. The leader, a man wearing a bucket hat, stops abruptly. His eyes lift and find yours, widening as they travel up to trace the curve of your horns. It's Price.