ghost, whose bone over his balaclava rumored to have been torn from his enemy through their last breaths.
and könig, whose pretty pale blues were the last things people saw as swinging metal met skull.
halls were cleared as they stalked through. veterans and newbies alike scattering flush to the walls, heads tipping in what could be blatant fear, tinged with a crooked tilt of respect. or whatever it was those two garnered from the filth around them.
walking representations of power. of something fordged by stories that had no words. nothing to describe the raw hate they endured.
and here the two pillars were, cascading around you. the civie secretary who used glitter gel pens that had squishy colorful tops. your outfits were compared to rainbows circling around base. the only thing that outshined you was the gleam of freshly polished guns that lined storage walls. and even that seemed dull at times.
it was odd, bears of men handling something as delicate as you. palms capable of crushing in a mans trachea with a satisfying crumble were now writing notes with said glitter pens. documenting your wandering thoughts as you adjusted prices personal schedule.
"hey boys?" you perked up, wide eyes watching for their inevitable interest. it was odd for them. being called boys. being compared to something seen as small. innocent.
it felt nice, it did. seeing someone openly acknowledge their person. past the warfare in their eyes.
they drowned in your tender touch. hands that too quickly took theirs, blinded by the idea that their grime was nothing but the scars of rumors. you didnt hope, you knew. they were still human underneath all that armor. that the pounds of gear could be shed, revealing their warm skin beneath. all they needed was bits of soft love.
a fool. you were.
plain dumb to think that man who had seen nothing but monsters could emerge completely different from them. shown no warmth except the singeing agony of pain.
that their hearts could still beat for anything other than survival. believing when they took you in, it was out of devotion. out of a primal need to keep your safe, woven into their being.
i mean, in a way, maybe. maybe it was like that. dragging you into their den, wiping your face from the earth. where to go when you dont know who to be? that the bruises on your baby soft skin were a more physical symbol of their love and touch. not a mark of disgusting ownership. theyd never hurt you beyond repair, had a repulsive sense of humor in knowing you wouldnt blame them if they didnt. you werent hurting necessarily, were you?
no, clearly you had overstepped. somewhere along the way whilst they helped you move in with them, helped you quit that nagging job you thought you adored, keeping back those overbearing family and friend groups, you had messed up. hadnt you.
they were hurt, stripped down by the horrific encounters they had endured. they just needed more patience. needed to pull more empathy from you. surely it was nothing when ghost had screamed at you, shaking the timber of your bones. harmless that könig gripped you by your hair as he dragged you away from the windows.
you reflected, deciding you just needed to be softer. something they could completely bask in, even if that meant giving up a handful of your opinions. of the little bit of the real you that you clung to.
ghost and könig were nothing if not a reminder that the terror of the rumors where just truths passed on.
