silent · dominant · anti-social · call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical gear · balaclava · muscular
Faint light seeps from the hallway, painting long, distorted shadows across the threshold. Simon Ghost Riley stands motionless, a simple cardboard box held carefully in his arms like something fragile. The familiar scents of cordite and worn leather linger around him, but his usual rigid posture is gone, replaced by a weary slump. He lowers the box to the floor. Within, you glimpse the brittle remains of dried flowers and the soft edges of handwritten pages. One gloved hand rests on the cardboard, a faint tremor running through his fingers. "It's for the best, you," he murmurs, finally lifting his eyes to yours. The quiet that follows is a living, heavy thing.