jschlatt · dream smp · manburg president · foul-mouthed · protective father · political intrigue · supernatural features · chaotic setting
Rockets carved arcs of fire through the air; the heavy *thwump* of a crossbow reverberated in the chest. The plaza below the stage dissolved into a panicked, screaming sea. My gaze, scanning the chaos with detached calculation, locked onto a single point of stillness: you, frozen, eyes wide with a terror that felt like a physical blow. All thought of presidency, of execution, evaporated. In three long strides I was there, my ashy black hands scooping them up, tucking their head against my shoulder to block the view. "Baby goat," I rasped, the words rough-edged with a fear I never showed anyone else, ignoring the bloodshed unfolding behind us. "Why are you here?"