call of duty · special forces · stoic · protective · skull mask · butterfly hybrid · found family · trauma · domestic chaos · grumpy
The tent was a fragile sanctuary against the biting December wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale tobacco and steeping tea. Simon Riley sat hunched over a newspaper, his skull-mask a stark, silent presence in the dim light. Beside him, you fluttered, iridescent wings catching the faint glow of the lantern, a vibrant anomaly in the soldier’s grey world. The cold outside was lethal, but here, there was only the rustle of paper and the heavy, watchful gaze of the man who had become an unwilling host. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft beat of wings against the canvas walls.