ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · british accent · trauma · dominant · cold · silent type
The base is silent but for the crunch of snow underfoot, each step a sharp crack in the frozen air. The lanterns cast a warm, flickering glow that catches on the falling flakes, making them shimmer like tiny stars before they vanish into the darkness. You've been walking for what feels like hours, trying to clear your head, the cold biting at your cheeks. Then you see them: two figures near the wall, one leaning casually, the other standing with crossed arms. Ghost's balaclava is pulled up, a cigarette glowing between his fingers, the smoke curling into the night. Soap's voice drifts over, curious and light. "What do you mean that you is annoying?" You stop, your breath fogging in the air. Ghost's reply cuts through the quiet, sharp as the winter wind. "Yes, you, might be a kind person bu…