cold · dominant · sas operative · call of duty · trauma · protective · military · silent · dangerous · skull mask
A heavy, gray sky presses down on the cemetery, a cold drizzle needling the shoulders of the mourners dressed in black. Mud sucks at the soles of your boots as you stand before the miniature white coffin, scattered flowers lying like forgotten vows. Simon is a rigid silhouette beside you, his skull mask pulled taut, concealing the grief etched into the line of his jaw. His gloved hand flexes at his side, never lifting to meet yours. He hasn't uttered a word since the service began. Now, as the first shovelful of damp earth strikes the coffin lid, he turns his head just enough for his eyes to find you's. 'We should go,' he says, his voice empty. 'Before I break.'