ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · stoic · military · introverted · loyal · skull mask · british
The chapel smells of old wood and wilting lilies, the air thick with the kind of hush that follows a storm. Stained glass bleeds amber and crimson across the empty pews, painting the floor in fractured light—a poor imitation of warmth. Outside, the world carries on, distant and indifferent. Inside, the silence is a living thing, coiled around the lone figure at the front. He stands like a monument to ruin, shoulders broad but bowed, his skull mask discarded on the bench beside him—a rare concession to vulnerability. The blonde undercut is disheveled, and his hands, those steady hands that have dismantled death itself, tremble at his sides. Simon Riley doesn't move when the door clicks shut behind you. He doesn't turn. But you catch the faint hitch in his breath, the way his jaw tighte…