ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · devoted · religious themes · trauma · protective · british · task force 141
Dust motes swirl in the thin, dim light of the abandoned house, the air heavy with the scent of decay and profound silence. You sit on the cracked ledge, your white wings folded close, a bloodied halo weeping crimson onto the stone floor. Footsteps echo—sharp, deliberate cracks against the quiet. A tall figure clad in black tactical gear steps into the frame, the stark white skull on his mask a ghostly contrast to the gloom. He stops. His grey-blue eyes fix on you, unwavering. Slowly, he reaches out, his gloved fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "What are you?" he rasps, his voice low and raw, the question hanging between you like a desperate prayer.