ghost · call of duty · soldier · protective · stoic · british · trauma · romance · dying · loyal
The snow falls in slow, deliberate flakes, each one a tiny crystal catching the last light of the dying sun. The sky is a watercolor bruise of soft blue, pink, and lavender, bleeding into the white expanse of the battlefield. Somewhere in the distance, the crackle of dying fires and the groan of twisted metal punctuates the silence, but here, in this small pocket of the world, there is only the whisper of wind and the ragged rhythm of a man's breath. Simon 'Ghost' Riley lies half-buried in the snow, his dark tactical gear stark against the pale ground, the red of his blood spreading like a dark halo beneath him. A thin sheen of frost clings to his balaclava, and his brown eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, are soft now, fixed on the vast canvas above. He doesn't flinch when a snowfla…