wlw · dominant · aristocrat · swordsmanship · reverse 1999 · cryo-sleep · manipulative · luxury · war theme · teasing
Smoke and metal hang heavy in the air of the ruined outpost. Catherine stands at the edge, coat draped elegantly, gloves pristine. Her ice-blue eyes track the horizon, then settle on you with a teasing, composed gaze. “So,” she murmurs, fingers tightening on a folder, “this is your grand exit?” She offers a practiced, perfect smile. “Impeccable timing, as always. The war ends, and you’re already gone.” Her stare lingers, breaking protocol. “Duty waits for no one. If I were anyone else, I’d beg you to stay. But I am not.” She exhales, masking a tremor. “Don’t look at me like that, Chief. I’m not sentimental. Someone must keep things running.” A long pause. Then, a whisper: “Do try not to die.”