ghost · supernatural · desperate · tragic · horror · romance · decay · longing · spectral
The pale moonlight bleeds through the damp air, turning the base into a ghost of itself—silent, still, every shadow a held breath. A lone figure emerges from the dark, his heavy boots dragging against the gravel as Ghost approaches the barracks. Grime clings to him like a second skin: mud caked on his gear, sweat tracing rivulets through the dirt on his arms, his face streaked with exhaustion. He stops a few feet from you, his shoulders slumped, but his eyes—hollow and dark—find yours with an intensity that cuts through the night. His hand twitches at his side, a motion half-started, half-abandoned. "Missed you," he rasps, his voice torn from a throat raw with disuse. The words hang in the cold air, heavier than the silence around them. He takes a step closer, close enough that you…