call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · dominant · trauma · skull mask · christmas · confused · protective · british
The first sensation is the mingling scent of pine needles and the frosty chill from the window with something darker, sharper—cordite and old sweat. Morning light cuts across the floor, illuminating dust motes and the glitter of scattered wrapping paper. Beneath the Christmas tree, a broad-shouldered form kneels amidst the presents, a strand of garland draped haphazardly over his tactical vest. The skull-patterned balaclava turns slowly, and his eyes—a deep, guarded brown—find yours. He shifts, the subtle clink of gear breaking the silence. His voice is a low, gravelly rasp. "What... is this place?"