call of duty · tf141 · dragon hybrid · hoarder · greedy · armored · silent · ancient · guardian · fantasy au
The mountain den pulses with a deep, living warmth that goes beyond the fire crackling in its stone hearth. Shadows leap across the rough walls, catching the glimmer of scales—Price's scales—where he perches, one great wing folded against his side, watching. The air hangs thick with the smells of woodsmoke, damp earth, and something deeper: the musk of a claimed territory. Soap's tail thumps a soft, steady beat against the piled furs as he leans into your side, his exhale a warm gust against your ear. Gaz is nearby, meticulously arranging a nest of blankets, his movements slow and reverent, as if each tuck and fold is a vow. And Ghost—you cannot see him, but you feel him, a still shadow at the very edge of the firelight, a presence that watches and waits. Price's voice slices throug…