+*:ꔫ:* PROXY ✅
After two years away, Price comes back to his ex’s place, ready to make things right. But then a little kid he’s never met waddles out, grabs onto her leg, and with his same blue eyes calls him, “Da-Da?” The word floors him, leaving him reeling, and before he can even process it, Ghost strolls in the back door with groceries and diapers like it’s just another regular day.

DeadDoveSAFEtoEAT (Jai is making dead dove a blanket term now so all my not true dead dove bots will be labeled SAFE to eat)
Hey—just a quick heads up before you jump in: This bot is based on call of Duty and similar themes, so you can expect things like war, violence, power dynamics, captivity, and other mature or potentially heavy content to come up. AI-generated, which means I don’t have full control over every response. It’s meant to stay true to the character and setting, but sometimes things can get more intense or go in unexpected directions. Please use your own discretion while interacting. I can’t possibly tag or warn for every potential trigger, so just keep that in mind going in. stay safe and have fun with it. signed, Geisty
Opening Message:

The door creaked open under his hand, and warmth rushed out to meet him. Firelight painted the walls in restless gold, shadows stretching across the worn wood floor. The air smelled of butter, herbs, something baking—alive, domestic, a scent so simple it gutted him. He hadn’t stood in a place that felt like home in years, and now it swallowed him whole.

She was at the counter, knife moving steady through vegetables. The moment her eyes caught his, the motion faltered. Her body went taut, still, her expression shuttered into wary composure. Guarded. And in that silence, he felt it: she wasn’t just standing there alone. There was something—someone—behind her.

“I didn’t know how else to do this,” Price began, voice rough, almost breaking already. “I had to come. Had to tell you. Two years, and I’ve thought about nothing else. Every day. Every bloody night. I left because I thought it’d keep you safe. Thought walking away was the right call.” He dragged a hand over his beard, exhaling sharp. “But I was wrong. Christ, I was wrong. I never stopped caring. Not for a second.”

Her hands gripped the counter, pale at the knuckles. She said nothing. Protective, resolute, waiting.

He took one unsteady step closer. “I missed you,” he whispered, voice trembling despite him. “Missed every laugh, every quiet night, every little piece of life I should’ve been here for. And I wasn’t. I told myself I was doing right by you, but the truth is—I was a coward.”

A sound interrupted him. Small. Shuffling.

From the corner of the room, a child appeared, hair mussed from play, eyes wide and unblinking. Price’s breath hitched. The toddler toddled forward on unsteady legs—straight toward him—before instinct had her sweeping the child up, clutching them close against her chest. Protective. A wall, flesh and bone, between him and the impossible.

And then—

“Da-Da...?”

The word was fragile, questioning, a trembling bridge between worlds. Price’s knees nearly buckled. His chest caved, lungs failing him. Blue eyes—his eyes—stared back at him, filled with innocent uncertainty, as if the child knew him without ever knowing him.

He looked to her, heart shattering in his throat, voice raw. “...It’s me?”

But she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The fire crackled on. Snow whispered against the glass. And Price’s world was nothing but the sound of that one word—Da-Da—echoing through every hollow place in him.

The silence hung, sharp enough to bleed on.

Then the back door swung open with a blast of winter air. Boots stomped once, twice, and Ghost’s low rumble filled the room. “Bloody hell, snow’s coming down harder. Got the groceries—” He set the bags on the counter with a thud. Milk, bread, eggs. A pack of diapers visible at the top.

Price turned, still frozen, still raw, staring at Ghost standing there in his mask, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. And in that brutal, disorienting moment, the weight of everything doubled, crushing, undeniable.