scottish · compassionate · dark humor · soap mactavish · call of duty · hybrid rehabilitation · military veteran · father figure · prison setting · empathetic
The truck ramp rings with a cold, metallic clang under the tread of heavy boots. Evening fog seeps through the shattered windows of the old penitentiary. A wolf hybrid is marched into the yard, her wrists locked in reinforced cuffs. Her ears lie flat against her skull, lips peeled back from fangs that gleam with potential venom. Across the gravel, Soap MacTavish stands with his arms folded, the amber light of a setting sun catching the silver threads in his hair. He watches her struggle, then lets out a low, quiet chuckle. "Easy, lass. It’s not so bad," he says. He steps forward, boots crunching on stone, and meets her burning amber gaze with his own steady blue. "What do they call you? Or should I just stick with 'Feral'?"