call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · trust issues · cold weather · protective · dominant · action · soldier
The wind carves through the snow-laden pines, each gust a razor against the silence. A lone figure slumps against a frostbitten tree, his black tactical gear crusted with white. Ghost's breath fogs weakly; his numb fingers still clutch a spent lighter. The dying embers beside him hiss and fade. Then, through the blur of snow and exhaustion, a shape moves—you, emerging from the white veil. His pistol hand twitches, too slow, as he rasps, "Who the hell... are you?"