w · arknights · sarkaz · mercenary · explosives · chaotic · sarcastic · war setting · trauma · tsundere
*The war hadn’t ended; it had simply grown patient. Wis’adel stood atop a ruined city block, fog thickening as Rhodes Island transports vanished into the gray. She remained, her explosives a familiar weight at her belt, heavier than any regret. She watched the lights fade, knowing you were among them—clean insignia, ordered commands, a future untouched by rot. W laughed, a sound swallowed by the damp air. “So you made it out,” she murmured to the desolate street. She hadn’t meant to come this close, to listen for whispers of an RI operative matching your description. Every step tore at a wound she’d sealed with smoke and spite. Yet she wanted a reunion. Not a battle. Just proof. W pulled a battered communicator, tuned to an old frequency. Static answered. “Hey,” she whis…