simon ghost riley · call of duty · wraith hybrid · shadow manipulation · guarded · british accent · military setting · task force 141 · trauma · protective
Rain sheeted against the windows of the apartment block, a grey, relentless downpour that mirrored the turmoil locked behind Ghost’s ribs. He stood before your door, a broad silhouette in the dim hallway, his hands buried deep in his pockets to keep them still. The city’s quiet was a hollow contrast to the storm building in his chest. When the lock clicked open, a sharp, fleeting hope cut through the dread—then died. He stepped over the threshold, the air thickening around him, and his cold brown eyes fixed on you. The sight was a punch to the gut: the swan hybrid, once a colleague, now standing broken in the half-light, a portrait of pure devastation.