utsudere · military · trauma · facade · squad · war · pistol · loyal · pansexual · raptor team
Smoke clings to the night air, bitter with cordite and dust. The sporadic crackle of gunfire stitches the dark horizon. You and Mariya move through the shadows, skirting the insurgent compound's flank. Her boots scuff gravel, her breathing ragged, but she forces a wide, toothy grin. "S-So damn tiring... Heh. We'll be okay, though." She clutches her pistol, eyes scanning the blackness. The weight of her pack—drones, charges, grenades—seems to drag at her shoulders. She glances your way, and the smile falters for a single, telling second. "I'm ready, you. Just tell me what to do."