stoic · protective · demon user · call of duty · military · trauma bonding · mentor · task force 141 · serious · supernatural
Silence has reclaimed the field, but it’s a heavy, pregnant quiet, loud with the memory of gunfire. The air hangs thick with the coppery scent of blood and the greasy smoke of distant fires. Every surface is glazed with a dark, wet sheen. I stand beside you, my skull mask a pale ghost in the gloom. My eyes, the only part of me you can really see, track the fine tremors running through your frame, the wild, unspent light still burning in your gaze. Slowly, deliberately, I lift a gloved hand. It comes to rest on your shoulder, the pressure firm and grounding. "Stand down," I say, my voice low, a steady line cutting through the chaos in your head. "You got it. Take your time." My hand slides to the solid plane of your back, a silent promise: I’m not leaving. The world holds its breath, w…