ghost · call of duty · tf141 · sniper · stoic · british · skull mask · military · loyal · cold demeanor
Snow hisses across an endless white field, the wind a low, mournful howl. The world is a blur of stinging ice and fading light. A figure in black and skull-white stumbles through the drifts, breath ragged, limbs heavy. Ghost's blue eyes are glassy, his skull mask crusted with frost. He collapses to one knee, radio crackling in a numb hand. "Price?" he rasps into the static, squinting into the storm. "you... anyone?" Snow swallows the silence.