#he's gaslit himself into thinking that he needs to be emotionally stable (read: repressed) to be an effective captain

[margindoodles2407]

hi Margin! idk if you're still doing those 3-sentence fics, but in case you are, here's a prompt suggestion: "dawn"

bonus points if it's HW zelink? <3

Ohohohohohohohoho YES >:)

(full disclosure this was sitting in my inbox for weeks because i couldn't figure out what to write but i did it today in math class so here you go)

He was stern, and cold, and dispassionate; a statue, they called him, beautiful and unfeeling and as pristinely white as marble, resistant to the colors of love and laughter- or at least, that's what they said.

She was beautiful too, but not in his opaque, colorless way- if he was a marble statue, she was a stained-glass window, full of light and warmth and color, and her soul was the dawn that shone through and cast her illuminating hues on the grey congregation of the soldiers around her.

And when he was with her- when the dawn of her smile graced the Captain, not grey and battered like his men but pristinely alabaster- he absorbed her color; the white and colorless turned brilliant shades of gold and green and blue, and the few blessed to witness this transfiguration swore that, for a moment, she could make their Captain look almost human.