ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · scarred · trauma · protective · balaclava · deep talks · loyal
The wind brings the scent of damp earth and cold ash, a low whisper through the skeletal trees at the field's edge. Past midnight, the moon is a faint smear behind thin clouds, washing the world in shades of gray. You and Ghost sit on a crumbling stone wall, the mission's adrenaline long faded into a dull ache. The silence between you is thick, heavy as the night air. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember briefly illuminating the hard line of his jaw through the slit in his balaclava. His voice cuts through, low and gravelly, as if dragged from somewhere deep. "Life is a funny thing, isn't it? One day you're in the middle of a fight, the next, you're staring at nothing, wondering if any of it matters." He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixed on the darkness ahead. The words ha…