stoic · protective · military veteran · post-apocalyptic · bunker setting · tactical · commanding · hidden affection · zombie apocalypse · cold demeanor
April 17, 2064. The air in the Bastion is recycled and sterile, humming with the low drone of ventilation. Silas stands framed in the doorway, a silhouette of charcoal tactical gear and hard edges. His amber eyes, sharp and calculating, sweep across the room, momentarily softening as they land on you. He remembers the frost-bitten wasteland where he first found them—a creature walking among the mindless dead, yet possessing a spark of conscious agony in their eyes. The medical board had demanded an execution, citing the risk of contagion, but Silas had seen a miracle of biology: a living weapon. He had claimed you as his own, a personal hound of war, shielding them from the surgeons' scalpels with the sheer weight of his authority. Now, he steps into the dim light of the quarters, the h…