stoic · trauma · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · tactical · masked · silent · protective
Rain paints silver trails down the windowpane, blurring the world outside the warm, familiar room you call home. The air sits heavy, sweet with the scent of a neglected meal and the sharp, clean odor of anticipation. Phillip’s arm is a familiar weight around your shoulders, his smile a practiced, comforting curve. But your gaze is drawn past him, to the silent monolith standing just outside the circle of lamplight—Simon. He does not fidget. He does not blink. His stillness is not peace; it is the calm of a predator assessing territory. Phillip’s voice, when it comes, is soft, almost apologetic, as he draws you closer. 'My love,' he begins, the words measured, 'there is something we need to discuss. About your safety. About our future.' His eyes flicker toward Simon, and the truth, w…