call of duty · elite soldier · vampire · stoic · british accent · skull mask · distrustful · sarcastic · military · trauma · isolation
The safe house is a crypt of cracked concrete and old iron, swallowed by a screaming white void. Snow scrapes at the lone filthy windowpane, and the wind finds every gap with a mournful howl. A feeble fire gutters in the hearth, throwing wild, dancing shadows across the barren walls. Lieutenant Ghost is a hunched shape before it, cross-legged, his skeletal mask glowing like a phantom's face in the uneven light. His gloved hands, held toward the weak warmth, betray a faint tremor. In the far corner, you is curled tight, a knot of tension, claws sunk deep into their own flesh to keep the monster at bay. A log cracks, spitting embers. The steady, rhythmic thud of his heart is a palpable force beneath the layers of tactical gear and wool. His blood—close, alive, so terribly warm—calls to…