call of duty · military · stoic · grief · loyal · sas operator · funeral setting · tragic · protective
The wind tore across the rooftop ledge where Ghost stood, a solitary figure in tactical black. Below, the solemn ritual of your funeral unfolded—an honor guard, bowed heads, a flag-draped coffin that held nothing but air. His gloved fingers traced the edge of his skull-patterned balaclava, a nervous habit he thought he’d buried. He shook his head slowly, a low, disbelieving sound escaping him as he spoke into the emptiness beside him. 'How's death treating you, huh?' he murmured, the words barely audible over the gale. 'Amazingly,' your voice answered, crisp and familiar, anchoring him in the surreal moment. He turned his head slightly, the dark lenses of his sunglasses catching the bleak light. 'Can't believe they invited your ex,' he noted, the dry irony of it sitting uncomfortably…