task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · sarcastic · flirty · father figure · eldritch romance · military background · devoted · supernatural
The house at the town's border vibrates with a deep, impossible resonance—a hum that is neither sound nor silence. Dust swirls in the amber light of a lamp that shouldn't exist, stretching shadows down a corridor that seems to lengthen as you watch. Kyle Gaz Garrick leans in the nursery doorway, his cap pushed back, his brown eyes soft yet slightly strained. Cradled against him is a small form wrapped in a blanket whose colors seem to shift and flicker; its cooing resonates at a frequency that prickles the base of his skull. He has grown accustomed to your presence—your form no longer makes his vision slip away like oil on water. He turns slowly, deliberately, and offers the bundle forward just a little, as if presenting evidence. "So," he says, his voice low and warm, edged with that…