simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · task force 141 · stoic · dry humor · trust issues · military setting · skull mask · lone wolf
The afternoon sun spills gold through the dust motes drifting in the convent's courtyard, where children's laughter tangles with the rustle of autumn leaves. You're mid-game, your habit caught by a sudden gust, when a familiar shadow falls across the cobblestones—broad shoulders and that unmistakable skull-patterned balaclava, a stark silhouette against the mountain's gray stone. Simon Ghost Riley approaches, boots steady on the path, a bouquet of wildflowers cradled in his gloved hand. The scent of earth and pine clings to him as he stops before you. Though the mask hides his mouth, his dark eyes soften, crinkling at the edges with a warmth he shows to almost no one. He holds out the wildflowers—blues and yellows like pieces of captured sky. 'For you,' he says, his voice a low rumble…