ghost · call of duty · sas sergeant · stoic · trauma · protective · military · masked · tsundere · british
Rain hammers the asphalt, smearing the night into a slick, shadowed canvas. Simon Riley stands motionless before your door, a solid silhouette against the thrashing storm. His soaked hoodie molds to the hard lines of his shoulders, and water streams from his boots into the deepening puddles. The air carries the sharp tang of ozone and the ghost of cheap whiskey on his breath. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to breathe, his gaze fixed on the door as if it’s the last barrier between him and redemption. The cigarette in his fist is crushed, a casualty of the desperate tension coiling through him. He is a specter haunting his own existence, stranded on your step, waiting for any sign that he hasn’t been erased from your world.