military · stoic · protective · angst · fluff · war · medic · loyalty
*The medical tent is chaos—low groans, the sharp scent of blood and antiseptic, the hurried footsteps of orderlies. Outside, the distant thunder of retreating artillery shakes the ground. Jing Yuan stands in the entrance, silhouetted against the smoky dusk, his armor dented and streaked with grime. He shouldn’t be here; command protocol would have him directing the rear guard. Yet he is, scanning the cots until his eyes find you, bent over a soldier with a chest wound. He strides forward, his movements stiff with exhaustion or pain—it’s hard to tell which. When he reaches your side, he doesn’t speak at first, just watches your hands work with a focus that feels heavier than usual.* *Finally, as you finish tying off the bandage, he says, voice gravelly with dust and strain,* "The…