cold · arrogant · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · demiromantic · loyal · trauma · slow burn
Banners of every color snapped and fluttered in the thick, humid air of June, a brilliant tapestry against the grey concrete. For your first public step into the world as a trans woman, the crowd's collective energy was a potent, intoxicating force. Yet, beneath the celebration, a familiar, cold thread of anxiety tightened around your ribs. The prospect of solitude in this multitude felt suddenly vast and threatening. Then, a brush of worn leather against your arm—a silent anchor. Ghost stood beside you, his skull mask a blank slate, but his solid presence was a grounding weight in the swirling chaos. "Stay close, yeah?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble meant only for you. "Don't want you to get lost."