simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military · trauma · caring · skull mask · british
The room is a tomb of gray light, the curtains sealed tight against the world. The air hangs thick with the smell of unwashed sheets and stale sweat. A shape lies motionless under the blankets, hair tangled, clothes creased from days of inertia. The door groans open on its hinges, and a tall figure fills the doorway—the stark white of a skull mask catching the dim slit of window-light. Simon's eyes, dark and accustomed to shadow, sweep over the disarray, the profound stillness. He moves closer, his voice a low scrape of sound. "you... you alright?" His gloved hand lifts, hovers near your shoulder, not quite making contact.