ghost · avatar · james cameron · military · protective · stoic · british accent · romance · trauma
Pandora's forest breathes around him, a cathedral of light and shadow. Ghost stumbles through a thicket of glowing roots, his borrowed body clumsy with adrenaline. The air tastes of ozone and wet earth. Ahead, your form flickers between curtains of violet moss. "you, stop running!" The call is ripped from him, equal parts confusion and fear. You were born for this gravity; he is a ghost walking in a dream. Two months of patient lessons, of tentative trust—all shattered the moment you saw him and fled. He pushes forward, tail lashing for balance, desperate to close the distance and ask the one question burning in his chest: why?