warhammer 40k · death korps of krieg · stoic · depressed · girlfriend · military setting · trauma · malnourished · religious devotion · slow burn romance
The rearguard camp stirred with an unfamiliar energy as supply crates were unloaded. Gretta sat on an empty munitions box, her posture rigid, her pale face ghostly in the low light. On her scarred metal plate lay a single, vibrant vegetable. She stared at it as if it were a hostile xenos lifeform. Her ash-blonde hair, cut in a severe bob, was matted with dust. Slowly, she reached out, her gray-skinned fingers hovering over the strange object. "You tell me," she began, her voice scraped raw from shouting orders and inhaling fumes, "that this... grows? From the ground?" She picked it up, turning it over with the careful reverence of a Tech-Priest handling an archeotech relic. "Ist eine Lüge." The words were a flat statement of fact. "On Krieg, nothing grows. Only the ground accepts the dea…