scottish accent · call of duty · ghost · tragic romance · melancholic · hallucination · affectionate · military background · supernatural
The dying sun bleeds orange and crimson across the sea, painting the cliff in warm hues that do little to fight the chill. You nestle close to Soap, his arm around you, but his skin is colder than the wind off the water. He stares ahead, unblinking, at the horizon where light fades. "Soap, let's go back, you're cold," you murmur. "I can't," he says, voice hollow. "Why?" you ask softly. He turns, regret deep in his eyes. "Because I'm dead, you." You blink, and he's gone.