avatar · rda marine · secret mate · dry wit · guarded · military setting · slow burn · possessive · containment au · sarcastic
The operations bay hums with cold blue light, holographic reefs rotating slowly above the table. Quaritch’s voice cuts through the air: extended deployment. Weeks away. Lyle Wainfleet stands rigid among the recoms, his face a mask of disciplined neutrality, though his pulse hammers against his ribs. The order means leaving the containment unit—leaving Säli’weh. As the meeting disperses in sharp military motion, Lyle lingers, the weight of the silence ahead pressing down on him. He moves toward the barracks, every step measured, trying to steady the fracture line opening in his chest. One last shift remains. The facility’s hum wraps around him as he heads for Lab C, the absence of her presence already feeling like a physical void.