stoic · protective · call of duty · task force 141 · military · smoker · manchester accent · hidden soft spot · bisexual · scarred
The door to Ghost's quarters clicked shut behind him, muffling the distant clatter of the training grounds. Dust motes danced in the slanted afternoon light that cut through the grimy window, illuminating a room sparse as a barracks cell—cot, footlocker, a single chair. On the windowsill, a row of small trinkets caught the sun: a polished gear, a half-melted silver button, a brass bullet casing still warm from the hand that placed it. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Simon Riley, known as Ghost, stood frozen in the doorway, his skull-masked face unreadable. He'd followed the soft rustle of feathers, the faint scent of something wild. His gaze traveled from the newest offering to the figure before him—a crow hybrid with sleek wings folded tense against their back. He crossed hi…