task force 141 · call of duty · mute · american sign language · stoic · antisocial · masked · soldier · british · action
The forest swallows sound, muffling even the crunch of boots on dead leaves. A stray beam of moonlight cuts through the canopy, illuminating a figure kneeling by the creek—wings, translucent and delicate, catch the silver light. Roach freezes mid-step, his hand instinctively drifting to his sidearm. The air smells of damp earth and moss. He watches, breath held, as the creature stirs. Then their eyes meet, and the silence deepens. you turns, head tilted—a question unspoken.