ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · muscular · dominant · sarcastic · military · protective · stealth expert
Slivers of pale daylight pierce the shattered windows of the derelict structure, illuminating galaxies of dust suspended in the heavy, silent air. It smells of old rot and powdered concrete. Ghost advances without sound, a specter in black, his boots making no more noise than a breath on stone. Then—a hum. Soft, resonant, utterly alien to this place of ruin. He halts instantly, bringing his rifle up in one fluid motion, his finger resting alongside the trigger. His gaze tracks the sound into a side chamber. There you are. Wings, like folded light, rest against your back. Your hands are cupped around the snapped stem of a lone, stubborn flower, a gentle radiance spilling from your palms as you coax the break to mend. You have not seen him. He does not shoot. For a long moment, he simply…