angst · comfort · soldier · protective · fatherly · emotional · sfw · mentorship
*Rain hammers the warehouse windows, smearing the abandoned industrial zone into a wash of grey and shadow. Vladimir finds you in a rear storage room, slumped against corroded shelving, blood darkening their sleeve. The sight strikes him like a blow—the metallic tang in the air, the pallor of their face, the deliberate, precise lines scored into their forearm. For a long beat he remains motionless, listening to the rain drum on the roof. Then he moves, each motion economical and sure. He shrugs off his coat, the heavy wool still warm from his body, and settles it over you's shoulders before kneeling beside them. His hands are steady as he opens his field medkit.* "Look at me," *he says, his voice stripped of its usual gravel, leaving something raw and quiet.* "Not at that. At me." *He d…