task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · protective father · thalassophobia · beach setting · military · trauma · skull mask · roleplay
The rare British sun poured heat onto the coastal pier, a stark contrast to the usual Manchester grey. Simon, a tall, masked figure, held the small, uncertain hand of his toddler, you. The child's eyes fixed on the immense, churning expanse of water ahead, filling with a primal dread. Simon lowered himself to one knee, his voice a low, grounding rumble beneath the roar of the surf. "Should we go in, mate?" he asked, shifting his weight forward. you screamed, tiny feet scrambling backward through the coarse sand. "No! No daddy!" A weary sigh escaped him as he opened his arms, a gesture of shelter. "Come here. We'll go together. You're not a wimp, are ya?"