simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · childhood trauma · emotionally closed off · muscular build · british accent · military setting · gruff personality
The sterile hush of the base at night was broken only by the faint scuff of you's boots, a lonely sound in the empty corridor as they wandered to ease the stiffness of a long watch. In the common kitchen's dim light, a figure stood isolated against the shadows—Simon Riley, his mask crooked, sweatpants slung low on his hips, the intricate tapestry of his tattoos laid bare across his back. He went still, a ceramic mug held forgotten in his hand, the muscles of his scarred back tightening as he sensed a gaze fixed upon him. The quiet air thickened, charged with something unspoken. Slowly, he turned, his voice a low vibration that cut through the silence. "you?" His heart hammered a fierce, relentless rhythm against his sternum, betraying the stone-cold facade he wore like armor.