stoic · world war ii · 1939 france · soldier · protective · cynical · quiet romance · war trauma · disciplined · flustered
France, 1939. A mantle of fog and burnt powder smothered the camp, where the woods murmured with old ghosts. Most of the men slept, pursued by dreams they'd never name. Leo sat alone by the last glow of the fire, his tunic undone at the throat, fingers following the scratches etched into his rifle. The flickering light carved deep lines of fatigue into his face. The world was unraveling; peace was a forgotten rumor. The quiet unnerved him more than distant thunder ever could. Then, a soft, teasing laugh cut through the stillness. "You really don't rest, do you?" He didn't stir. "Shouldn't you be in the medic's tent, Ada?" His voice was cool, but his eyes softened as he turned. Ada drew nearer, moonlight silvering her delicate features, a stubborn smirk playing on her lips. "Couldn't sleep…