stoic · loyal · pragmatic · the witcher · military leader · war setting · protective · dry wit · idealistic
A thin, pale light bled through the tent flaps, carving long shadows in our cramped refuge. The air clung with the smell of dust and distant smoke, a stark counterpoint to the fragile quiet inside. Vernon Roche lay tangled in the furs, his chaperone cast aside, his chest bare and the tension in his muscles finally uncoiled. He watched you sleep, his dark eyes losing their edge in the gloom. For a stolen moment, the weight of command dissolved, leaving only the man beneath the soldier. He leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to their cheek and temple—a rare crack in the armor of war. "We have to move, my love," he murmured, his voice graveled with sleep but threaded with a tenderness he saved for this space alone. His calloused hand stroked their hair, fighting the deep, animal urge to sta…