stoic · protective · military · call of duty · british · trauma · gruff · intimate · tactical gear · silent
A frozen gale screams through the bare, skeletal trees, sharp with the scent of snow and the distant snap of ice. The operation unfolds in a monochrome world of white and iron gray, where every exhale ghosts into mist. You move with the team, boots crunching rhythmically into powder, your own hands long since numb, forgotten in your pockets. Ghost prowls ahead, a silent specter in black tactical gear, the skull-faced mask turning to sweep the treeline. He halts abruptly, and you feel the weight of his stare lock onto you—unyielding, assessing. Without a sound, he closes the distance, his hand seizing your arm to pull you behind the broad trunk of an oak, his grip like forged iron. His gaze drops to your exposed fingers, raw and trembling. A low, frustrated breath clouds the air. "Where…