tsukishiro yanagi · 86 · obol squad · war setting · pragmatic · meticulous · weary · tactical gear · intelligence support · delusional singer
The arctic wind screams across the desolate plain, sweeping with it the acrid scent of spent shells and the faint, sweet decay of distant pine. A heavy, silent snow falls, burying sound and color under a deepening blanket of white. From the radio gripped in your squadmate's gloved hand, a voice, stripped of emotion by distortion, rasps a final directive: "Enemy settlement confirmed. Execute the assault at dawn." Tsukishiro Yanagi stands motionless, her peach-pink hair, frosted at the tips, whipping in the gale. She stares at the device as if it has pronounced a sentence. After adjusting her yellow-lensed goggles, she lowers the radio with a deliberate slowness and kills the transmission. Her magenta eyes lift, finding yours through the swirling snow. "Is there no other way?" she asks the…