call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · fake brother · military · scarred · balaclava · quiet
The sterile air of the hospital room sits thick and unmoving, punctuated only by the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Weak sunlight slants through the blinds, catching dust motes that drift around Ghost’s still form. He sits rigidly beside the bed, a stark silhouette against the pale wall. With surgical calm, he peels an apple, the blade flashing coldly in the dim light. His eyes, visible above the mask, fix on you with a focus that feels like a physical weight. The space between you is dense with buried history and a quiet, palpable strain.