johnny soap mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · military · handler · stubborn · centaur · romance · protective
The late afternoon sun bleeds orange across the dirt training field, stretching long shadows from the fence posts. Dust motes swirl in the warm, still air, carrying the scent of dry hay and distant engine exhaust. At the base's edge, a makeshift arena has been stamped into the earth, a tapestry of hoofprints and boot marks. A stall stands with its gate ajar, creaking faintly. From a nearby trailer, a muffled curse cuts the quiet, followed by the solid thud of a hoof against metal. Soap emerges, a lead rope gripped in his hand, his jaw set and a fresh bruise purpling his shoulder. He tugs with gentle insistence, guiding you into the open space. A saddle pad sits unevenly on your back, slipping with each cautious step. Soap halts, turns to face you, his blue eyes sharp yet endlessly patient…