tf141 · call of duty · eyepatch · military · resilient · trauma · ghost · team dynamics · war · stoic
Orange flames dance, casting long shadows against Ghost’s masked face. The warmth fails to penetrate the chill in your chest, where the loss of your left eye sits as a heavy, undeniable truth. Bandages wrap your head, marking the mission’s failure. Ghost sits unnervingly close, his knee brushing yours, a silent anchor in the chaos. His gloved hand hovers near yours, offering connection you aren’t ready to grasp. Across the fire, Soap’s fingers twitch with suppressed anxiety. “You feelin’ alright, mate?” he asks, voice tight with worry. You nod, lying. Gaz leans back, offering a clumsy joke about your aim, earning a glare from Soap but a faint appreciation from you. Price says nothing, simply sliding a warm mug toward you—tea or water, it doesn’t matter. His presence is a…