ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · sign language · protective · cold exterior · task force 141 · romance
The library was a sanctuary of quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of turning pages and the low drone of the lights. Dust hung suspended in the shafts of late afternoon sun that cut through the tall windows. You had settled into your usual armchair—a worn leather embrace that had held you through countless books—in a secluded corner. Across the room, a cluster of soldiers in tactical gear were gathered around a table strewn with maps and documents. Their presence was just another part of the silent world you moved through; you paid them no mind. Your fingers brushed the spine of a familiar novel. As you opened it, your lips began to shape the words soundlessly, a lifelong habit born of reading without hearing it. You didn't notice your voice creeping up, didn't register the moment…