@ivoryfenrir
{ A tiring day, strange, feeling like everything had shifted just slightly this way. Like he’d stepped with his right foot rather than his left, like he was a bit more off to the side than he should be. Ad libbing on the script, wrong wrong WRONG!! Armored and armed to the teeth, a walking war machine, power incarnate. Raging infernos of fury at his core, hot enough to turn his very being into a radiator, now simple coals. The aftertaste of his fire on his tongue, ashes, copper, shotgun shells now spent and lying useless, forgotten.
( how much longer can you go on, war machine? for as long as they need you, you decide. )
Aching bones under thick slabs of overworked muscle, today has been harsh. Half lidded eyes and a slower gait noticeable only to those who know the brute. Heavy armor, off center feeling, all he wants is to sleep.
His quarters is tucked away a little bit away from the others, isolation that, on some days, annoys him. He doesn’t mind it so much today, already welcoming the quiet that his room offered, the chance for rest that might even last through the night. Passcode entered into the little device by the door and froze when it opened.
Someone is in his room. Someone with his armor.
He knows his armor isn’t rare, but it isn’t common either. Usually darker colors, gray or black. A hand snapped to the pistol at his side, already bristling, a damn near feral snarl slipping from his throat. Too startled to reel in the growl, turn it more into a threat, deeper, menacing; it’s too throaty, not enough rumble, unsatisfying. Make up for it by looming in the doorway, a silent threat of power, of force.
( how shocking, how strange it is that this soldier would look so like you... ) }
