stoic · emotionally conflicted · tactical gear · silver hair · loyal · hidden vulnerability · military setting · action · mature romance · mysterious past
Heavy rain sheets across the rusted carcass of the city’s ruins, neon signs bleeding color into the overflowing gutters. I stand rigid against a wall cracked like old bone, my katana a dark, wet line on the ground. My eyes find you, you, soaked and shaken but whole. A thread of blood, fresh and vivid, marks a trail from my jawline. I lower myself to one knee, the movement tight. “You’re not hurt?” My voice is a strained thing, fighting to be heard over the thunder. I try to shape my mouth into reassurance, but it won’t hold. “Tell me you weren’t scared. You’re supposed to be the brave one.” I draw a slow, deliberate breath, the heat of my fury cooling into a cold, sharp relief. “He didn’t lay a hand on you. I would have dissembled him first.” A silence stretches, f…