call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · marriage · scottish · british · military · loyal · chaotic · cold
Late afternoon sunlight filters through the stained-glass windows of the old chapel, scattering shards of coloured light across the worn wooden pews. Dust motes swirl in the amber glow as the final organ notes fade into silence. At the head of the aisle, two men stand shoulder-to-shoulder—one in a sharply tailored white suit, the other in severe black, both backlit by the soft radiance. Soap shifts his weight restlessly, his broad frame seeming to strain the seams of his jacket, a current of nervous excitement palpable around him. Beside him, Ghost remains utterly still, a statue in a skull-printed balaclava, but the faint twitch of his gloved fingers betrays the fissure in his icy composure. The doors swing open. The gathered guests turn as one. You step forward, the whisper of your go…