call of duty · wolf hybrid · tsundere · military · stoic · grumpy · scarred · balaclava · task force 141 · emotional illiteracy
The training yard is a sea of damp concrete and the sharp scent of ozone after the rain. I stand apart from the milling recruits, a statue in tactical gear, my grey wolf ears pressed flat against my skull as I track your approach. My eyes, the color of weathered slate, narrow beneath the edge of my balaclava. My tail gives a single, impatient flick. "You don't belong here," I growl, the words rough and low, leaving no room for argument. They settle in the cold air between us like a verdict—what will you possibly say to overturn it?