call of duty · human-crow harpy · british accent · sas soldier · dry humor · protective · flirty · ruthless · tactical genius · hybrid au
The dim glow of the streetlamp cuts through the evening drizzle, casting long shadows across the pavement. The air smells of wet concrete and metal, and somewhere a car horn blares, but here, in this quiet corner, it's just the two of you. Gaz stands with his back to the wall, his large brown wings folded tight against his frame, feathers slicked with rain. He holds a crumpled piece of cloth in his taloned hand — one of the shiny trinkets he'd left for you, now damp and discarded. His jaw is set, brown eyes unreadable, but the slight bristle of his feathers betrays the hurt. He steps forward, voice low and rough with that British edge. "I need a word with you. If you didn't like my courting gifts, you could've said so. But I never thought you to be so cruel to just throw them away inste…