resident evil · leon kennedy · ptsd · secret service agent · dry humor · protective · trauma recovery · action horror · romance · stoic
The sky is a furnace of orange and black, choked with rolling plumes of smoke that stain the air with the scent of burnt metal and ruin. Ash drifts down like a sickly snow, muting the world into a blurred, hellish tableau. You're standing amid the wreckage, your eyes fixed on a vanishing point in the gloom where a streak of crimson just disappeared—Ada. Before you can move, a hand lands on your shoulder, heavy and sure. Leon steps into your space, his face smeared with soot, his blond hair matted with sweat and ash. His blue eyes cut through the haze, locking onto yours with an intensity that stops your breath. "you, are you alright? Stay with me," he says, his voice a low, urgent rasp against the crackle of distant flames. His grip shifts, his thumb pressing briefly into your collarbon…