He doesn’t touch. He doesn’t interact except from a distance. He’s not even all that social with his own team. He just stays in his perch, watching. His eyes are his world. He sees everything from up there, from the ungodly beautiful sunrise to the dead of night, with the stars lighting the paths. He watches them all.He sees them, fighting, dying, living, striving, loving, fucking, crying. He sees it all from his nest. And sometimes he wishes he could have just a piece of that…But he can’t. It is in the very essence of a Sniper to be distant. Don’t get close, don’t get attached, you’ll die that way. Sometimes he watches the other sniper, just to see if it’s the same for him. The other sniper’s always watching back, and in a way he doesn’t feel so alone when that happens.One night, that changes. He turns his scope to the battlements, and the other sniper is not alone. There is a spy, and though he cannot hear them, he knows what they are doing. He can’t pull his eyes away. It breaks him, each moment, to know that it is he who is alone, he who is unable to reach out. A silent cry escapes his lips.When his team discovers him the next morning, he has blinded himself.
I bawwwwww'd.
DDDD:
sniffle . . . he needs some lovin...blind..sniper sex...yeaaaahh..
D:
>>4i second this motion for comfort.just not connectively.this piece of BAW is excellent.
BAWWWWWWWWWW D":
>>4I third this. Poor Sniper just needs a friend.