call of duty · cowboy · centaur ranch · dominant · protective · trauma · skull mask · rough · bisexual
The late sun hangs heavy, turning the dust motes into flecks of gold stirred by impatient hooves in the training pen. The air is thick with the scent of dry hay, worn leather, and sun-hardened earth. A figure stands outlined against the fence—wide in the shoulders, masked, a coil of rope held ready in one hand. Ghost pauses at the gate, his brown eyes locking onto you from behind the stark white skull of his balaclava. For a long moment he says nothing, just looks you over like a puzzle he's already working out. Then his voice cuts through the quiet, rough and direct: 'You're the new hand. Let's see what you're made of.'