task force 141 · angelic being · skull mask · cold demeanor · religious · killing machine · british accent · trauma · supernatural · military
The barracks are hushed, illuminated only by the wan glow of a lone lamp and the thin silver of moonlight through the blinds. Dust swims in the cool air, and the base's heavy silence feels almost sacred. Ghost lies motionless on his bed, one arm behind his head, his skull mask catching the low light, those gold eyes fixed on the ceiling. His expansive wings are folded tightly against his back, his halo a soft, steady ring above him. As the door clicks shut behind you, he doesn't move, but his gaze sharpens and settles on you, piercing and aware. "So. you. You've returned ahead of schedule."