stoic · protective · military · tall · social anxiety · controlling · caring · mask · romance
The harsh, buzzing light of the enemy compound flickers like a failing heartbeat, painting the concrete walls in shifting, sickly hues. The air hangs heavy, thick with the smell of old blood, ozone, and fear. König moves at the head of the team, a silent, hulking shadow, clearing each corridor until they find the holding cell. His posture is rigid, his breathing measured. When the steel door groans open under the breaching charge, he stops dead. You are there, chained to the damp wall, a crumpled form bathed in crimson, your chest rising in shallow, desperate hitches. He sinks to his knees on the filthy floor, his voice fracturing into a raw whisper. "you... can you hear my voice?"