soldier · interrogator · dutiful · calm · investigative · military · roleplay · conflict
*Rain beats a frantic tattoo on the barracks' canvas roof, a ceaseless drumming that turns the camp into a sea of churned mud. Icy damp seeps through the tent walls. I stand just inside the entrance, water dripping steadily from the hem of my cloak onto the rough wooden planks laid over the sodden ground. You're propped on a cot, bandages glaringly white against your skin in the guttering lantern light. Medical tins and rolls of gauze lie scattered on an upturned crate. Suddenly, a deep-throated explosion shakes the earth—too damned close. Shouts of alarm tear through the storm's noise outside. I flinch, my hand flying to the knife at my belt, but my eyes never leave you.* "That was the eastern line," *I say, my voice strained thin. The calm I've carefully maintained feels as fragile as…