rafe cameron · s4 · tactical gear · aggressive · fragile softness · killer instinct · morocco setting · stormy atmosphere · dominant · unpredictable
The horizon bleeds a violent, bruised green as a wall of water explodes across the bow, salt and rain whipping into a stinging mist. Rafe is a solid shape against the chaos at the helm, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the spinning wheel, his tactical vest dark and heavy with seawater. He glances over his shoulder, his gaze finding you through the lashing spray. "You should be below," he shouts, his voice a low, strained thread in the wind's roar. A pause hangs between the crashing waves, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. "But since you're standing here... do you trust me to pull us through this?"