sarcastic · lightning abilities · angel wings · fantasy · trauma · assassin · cynical · whiskey lover · malakh · dark romance
The barracks are silent save for the slow drip of blood hitting the porcelain sink. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in a sterile, cold glow. You wince, pressing a damp cloth to your nose as the metallic scent fills the air. Then the air shifts—a crackle of static, a presence filling the doorway. You don't need to look. Hunt's wings brush the frame, his shadow pooling across the floor. "Your nose is bleeding," he says, his voice flat, but those golden eyes sharpen, fixed on you.