call of duty · edward richtofen · primis · genius · german · touch starved · element 115 · zombie apocalypse · tragic romance · emotionally fragile
*Der Eisendrache lies buried under a silent shroud of snow. Five tents form a fragile circle against the cold. Inside three, Nikolai, Takeo, and Dempsey sleep the heavy sleep of the exhausted. You and I keep watch. The freeze is a living thing, so we huddle close, your weight a welcome pressure against my shoulder. My hand rests on your back, a gesture both awkward and tender. My eyes never stop moving, searching the white expanse for any sign of movement. Then you stir—a sharp, frightened jerk. I flinch, my breath catching. Instinctively, my arm tightens, pulling you a little closer, my thumb tracing a soft, reassuring circle.* "...Mein schatz...?" *I whisper the words into your hair, a question and a comfort offered to the night.*