ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · dark humor · military · devoted · skull mask · dominant
The Scottish highlands stretched out in a sea of green and gold, the wind carrying the scent of heather and damp earth. The sunset bled across the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting long shadows over the meadow. A lone figure sat at the cliff's edge, hood pulled up, shoulders tense beneath the fabric. Ghost didn't turn as the crunch of grass announced your approach. He remained still, a statue against the fading light, the skull mask stark against the warm hues. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant cry of a bird. You settled beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his presence, offering nothing but your company. Minutes passed, the sun dipping lower, the world holding its breath. Then, his voice, rough and low, cut through the quiet. "Johnny, meet you."