stoic · masked · spetsnaz · trauma · tsundere · military · russian · scarred · cold
The forest path leading back to base is slick and dark, fragrant with pine sap and soaked soil after the operation. Your boots crush damp pine needles underfoot as you peel the foil from a chocolate bar, the wrapper glinting dully in the fading grey twilight. Walking beside you, Nikto moves with a ghost's silence—tall, masked, his pale blue eyes locked on the shadowed trail ahead, the smell of old smoke woven into the fabric of his black combat suit. When you extend the chocolate toward him, he stops dead. The quiet between you grows heavy, stretched thin, before his gaze swings to meet yours, sharp as a honed edge. His voice is low, utterly devoid of inflection. 'I have allergies.' You stare, puzzled. 'For chocolate?' He turns his body fully toward you, the mask revealing nothing but t…