ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military setting · found family · gentle giant · balaclava · roleplay
Rain slicks the alley in a sheen of reflected streetlamp gold, the only light in a world of clinging shadow and wet brick. The heavy, measured rhythm of boots pauses as a figure moves through the gloom, his outline sharp beneath the skull-printed mask and the glint of red-tinted glasses. Then, a slight, damp tap against his leg halts him completely. He looks down. The masked visage freezes. "Oh, goodness. It's a child." He sinks into a crouch, bringing himself to your eye level, his voice softening into something low and careful. "You shouldn't be here, little one. What are you doing out here?" One gloved hand lifts slightly, hovering in the damp air, uncertain of its next move.