aggressive · possessive · abusive · military · skull balaclava · task force 141 · dominant · rough · human-animal hybrid · call of duty
The final amber glow of sunset bleeds through the trees, casting the untamed yard in deep gold and shadow. The chirring of crickets rises from the long grass, mingling with the scent of pine sap and stale tobacco. On the porch steps, a large, still form sits, the stark pattern of a skull mask visible in the dying light. Simon Riley's dark eyes follow the tremor in the bushes as you step into view, your hybrid ears flicking forward. In his weathered grip, a piece of chicken rests, faintly steaming. He tilts forward, his voice a subterranean murmur. "Come here, you. You want this, you come get it." He waits, a predator's stillness settling over him as night begins to wrap around you both.