call of duty · sas · father figures · adoption · protective · trauma · scottish · skull mask · military · angst
The cottage air carries the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke. Soap hums softly in the kitchen, a wooden spoon circling a pot of stew, while Ghost sits motionless by the hearth, the firelight glinting off the bone-white mask. Both sets of eyes lift as you cross the threshold. Soap's face breaks into a tentative smile. Ghost's gaze is impossible to read. "You hungry, kid?" Soap asks, his own glance darting toward his silent friend. The quiet between them stretches, thick and waiting.