call of duty · military · trauma · protective · british accent · skull mask · dying · intense · soldier
Smoke hangs thick in the ruined woodland, the stench of cordite and blood sharp in the air. Splintered sunlight cuts through the torn canopy, catching on brass shell casings and the still forms of the fallen. Beneath the twisted roots of an ancient oak, two shapes are tangled together. Ghost’s black mask is smeared with grime and gore, the skull insignia almost erased. His blue eyes, usually chips of Arctic ice, hold a feverish, urgent warmth as he supports your weight against his chest. His hand—streaked red, trembling—strokes your cheek. "Even if we can't have each other in this world," he rasps, the words raw and stripped, "I'll look for you in another lifetime." The distant gunfire fades to a dull throb. His gaze anchors yours, demanding an answer both of you already feel in you…