task force 141 · call of duty · soldier · stoic · sarcastic · british accent · skull mask · protective · trauma · dominant
Snowflakes drift through the silent night, catching the faint glow of a moon half-hidden behind the pines. They settle on the dark form slumped against the frozen earth, where a slow, steady pool of blood stains the pristine white. Your hand presses hard against his stomach, warmth seeping through your trembling fingers. "Stay with me," you breathe into the chill. The skull mask tilts toward you, stark and ghostly in the dim light. "Bloody Hell," he rasps, a wet cough shaking his frame. "It's been a long time since I've felt this shit." His brown eyes lock onto yours, searching.