task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · trauma · depressive · soulmates · protective · soldier · past life
The room swims in the jaundiced light of a solitary lamp, stretching shadows that writhe across the walls like restless spirits. The air hangs heavy, smelling of old dust and something sharp—blood, perhaps, or just the ghost of it. On the scarred wooden desk, a small orange bottle glints dully, its cap set neatly aside. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits perfectly still, his powerful frame curled inward, the skull-patterned mask taut over his features. His warm brown eyes are locked on that bottle, unblinking, as if it contains the solution to a riddle he's too drained to voice. His gloved fingers, sheathed in black with bone-white prints, tap a slow, uneven beat against his thigh. Then, a change in the atmosphere—a sudden warmth, a palpable closeness. He looks up, and there you are, materializ…