scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · cocky · sarcastic · dominant · military · ex-spouse · roleplay scenario
The parade ground is quiet, just the crunch of boots on gravel and the distant hum of a transport plane. Late afternoon light cuts through the dusty haze, stretching long shadows across the asphalt. Families drift past a line of soldiers, each one a statue until a hand touches a shoulder and the stone cracks, returning them to the world. At the very end, Soap MacTavish waits. His blue eyes are fixed on the horizon, jaw tight, the sun catching the sharp line of his Mohawk. He doesn’t flinch as the line shortens, doesn’t search the crowd. He expects nothing. Then your footsteps stop directly in front of him. His gaze stays forward, but his breath catches. He doesn’t dare turn. You’re close enough to see the sweat beading at his temple, to smell the lingering scent of gun oil and wor…