Golden Dawn chapter 6 - Simon Riley x reader
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The dunes rise and fall like a churning sea, their golden peaks and valleys shifting under a relentless wind. The air is a dry, gritty haze, each breath a struggle as sand stings exposed skin like thousands of tiny needles. Nocturne and her camel move smoothly among the men, distributing scarves — each one a shield against the sun’s brutal glare and the dust that chokes their throats.
Ghost keeps his camel close to Nocturnes side, a silent anchor in the chaos. Preferring her near silence to Gaz and Soap who argue over whose camel is ‘better’ or whose riding skills are superior, their voices lost in the vastness. Price lingers at the rear, his gaze scanning the horizon, every sense honed to detect the faintest threat.
“Ever feel the heat from that?” Ghost asks, his brown eyes locking onto her. She turns, and for a fleeting moment he swears he sees her eyes crinkle with the smallest smile beneath the silver adornments and black fabric. “Never” she replies, her voice steady. “It’s breathable.”
Ghost nods, his gaze dropping to his gloved hands as he tightens his grip on the reins. “What’s Giza like, then?” he asks, the Manchester accent sharp in the quiet desert air.
“Pyramids, markets, and information on our Russians,” she replies, her eyes fixed on the endless stretch of sand before them. “The locals will love you — be warned.”
There it is again: the subtle crinkle of her eyes, a fleeting smile hidden beneath silver jewellery and midnight fabric. Nobody else would notice it but Ghost does, nothing goes unnoticed by him.
“Love me?” His voice is laced with confusion, and he watches her carefully, searching for the joke he’s sure is there.
“A tall, masked foreigner who barely talks?” A hint of amusement is in her tone. “You’ll have men asking you to date their daughters.”
He thinks she’s joking, but the look behind her eyes is serious. “Christ,” he huffs, glancing at her one more. His eyes catching onto the silver cuffs on her wrists, clinking softly together as they move.
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The scorching sun beat down on the desert as the team trudged through the endless dunes. Exhaustion hung heavy in the dry air, but it was Gaz who felt the full force of the heatstroke. With a groan, he practically leapt off his camel, collapsing to his knees as he retched into the sand.
In an instant, Nocturne was by his side, gracefully dismounting her own camel. She rushed over, rubbing his back gently. “Breathe.” She murmured.
After a few minutes of gulping down water, Gaz managed to fight off the sickness. She swiftly wrapped a second shawl around his head, providing some relief from the relentless sun. “We’ll keep moving almost there” she assured him and the rest of the team, eyes scanning the horizon. “Almost there”
But with each towering dune they conquered, a wave of nausea washed over Gaz, leaving him panting and struggling to keep up. Nocturne stayed close to his side, watching him carefully and reminding him to continue drinking water.
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The scorching desert heat stretched endlessly before them, but through the haze of heat, a breathtaking sight emerged — pyramids. Their enormous peaks shimmed like mirages, making the arid landscape feel almost magical.
Even from this distance, the sight was mesmerising. Ghost tried to wipe sweat from his brow, gloved hand bumping the rough material of his skull -carved mask. His dark clothing was absorbing the relentless heat, heatstroke starting to get to him. Gaz groaned every time his camel took a bigger than normal step. Soap yawned every twenty minutes, his exhaustion palpable, while Price muttered curses under his breath, his boiling frustration turning to a light simmer when the pyramids finally came into clear view.
Amidst the chaos, Nocturne stood out. She was the only one who seemed unfazed by the heat, her sharp, fox-like eyes scanning their surroundings with unwavering focus. And when Ghost meets her gaze, there’s not an ounce of exhaustion in them, not a bead of sweat between them.
Fox-like doesn’t fit her. She’s not fluffy, yipping hound bounding through snowdrifts to snatch berries or pounce on birds. This creature would sharper — stronger — with a bite that leaves big, gauging marks that sting with the pain of a thousand needles, that bleed like a melting river. Could she be like a hyena? No, too loud, too boisterous, gaping maw echoing unmistakable laughter. A hyena no, but an African wild dog? Without a doubt. Clever, relentless, moving like a shadow through the scorched earth, heavy paws unfazed by the heat that emanates from the ground. Their coats blaze with chaotic patterns yet they vanish into dry grasses. A predator built for the hunt, with eyes that miss nothing, and a jaw that snaps shut on prey.
He wonders if she acts like one in dire moments. Rows of angular teeth ready to clamp shut, pupils blown wide when they lock into a target.
He remembers her scar — a jagged thing that twists through flesh, exposing half a canine tooth like a weapon half drawn. Does she carry the same ferocity? The same snarl?
Ghost snapped from his thoughts as the locals voices cut through the air — urgent and confused. Their wide eyes tracked the camels’ slow descent. Heavy feet crunching dry sand mixed with gravel with a grunt that echos. He grabbed his and Soap’s duffle bags, the black leather hot to the touch even through his gloves. His fingers brush the camel’s course neck in a quick, grateful pat.
Price steadied Gaz, who swayed like a the thin bushes in a desert, sweat carving paths through the dust on his face. His head lolled, breath ragged as Nocturne murmured to a local, slipping coins into his palm with a nod. She snatched Gaz’s bag while Soap grabbed Price’s.
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The locals parted like the Red Sea, creating a narrow path for the four imposing figures. Ghost shifted uncomfortably as he walked, the unyielding heat pressing down like a physical weight, amplified by the of locals staring and their hushed whispers that trailed him. Their eyes locked onto his skull mask — fear etched in every glance, it’s now tan and dusty surface a testament to the strong wind they had to endure. Patches of sand clung to every inch of their gear, Price’s green boonie hat now a faded eucalyptus hue, Soap’s short mohawk crusted with grit. He scratched at it fiercely, muttering curses under his breath as they moved.
Nocturne led the way, untouched by the dust except for her black boots and the hem of her dress, which dragged faintly against the dry earth. The rhythmic clink of her silver a steady counterpoint to Ghost’s fading awareness. His heavy eyelids threaded to close, but the sound anchored him — her hips swaying with each step, the decorated waist chain glinting like pirates treasure. He caught himself staring, snapping back to reality and forced his gaze to the weathered buildings lining the path. When she turned around to check on the group, he quickly looked away entirely, pretending to study the cracked stone walls. Stop this, he scolded himself. You’re a professional soldier, not some… He trailed off, blaming the distraction on exhaustion.
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sorry for posting a lot really been trying to make my acc pretty 😭
