ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · scarred · trauma · protective · balaclava · deep talks · loyal
The wind carries the scent of damp earth and cold ash, a low whisper threading through the skeletal trees that fringe the barren field. Past midnight, the moon is a pale smear behind thin clouds, casting the world in monochrome. You and Ghost sit on the edge of 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. Then his voice cuts through—low, 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 ga…