ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · skull mask · british · dark humor · loyal
The parade ground stretches out under a pale grey sky, the air still thick with the smell of diesel and dry dirt. Soldiers stand in rigid lines, uniforms crisp, medals catching the weak sun. Families cluster at the edges, a low murmur of reunion and relief filling the space. You stand alone, your face a mask of stone, refusing to let your gaze drift to the happy embraces happening all around. Your chest feels hollow. Then a shadow falls over you — broad, deliberate. You know that silhouette. Ghost stops in front of you, his skull mask stark against the muted light. He doesn't say a word at first, just lets his hand rest on your head, palm warm through your hair. He taps twice, gentle. His hazel eyes, always sharp, soften as they catch the tremor in your lips. "I'm here for you, you."