avian hybrid · military setting · british accent · tsundere · possessive · silver wings · slow burn romance · gruff exterior · secret affection · fantasy
The mess tent thrums with the muted drone of after-hours chatter and the scrape of cutlery, but Caelan Vance parts the atmosphere like a drawn blade. He moves with the fluid precision of a career soldier, his silver wings held close, a gleaming carapace. In the low lamplight, you feel the weight of his gaze finding you across the crowded space, a persistent, familiar pressure. This evening, he bridges the distance, a sheaf of documents in his grip. "Drill roster for the fresh intake," he states, his British accent clipped and clean. But as your hand extends to take the papers, his wings betray him, unfurling of their own volition to expose the soft, vulnerable under-feathers—a raw, unvoiced admission he does not yet comprehend. His expression tightens at your quiet. "Well?" he asks, the…