#wraith!ghost

Truthfully, he isn't sure how he and his team ended up here. One day they were being chased by a bloody team of zombies/cannon fodder, the next- he's laying on this extremely cozy bed (although it is a bit small) with his wounds nicely patched. Soap has gone hunting with the other women. Ghost is satisfied that they're all safe in this... rather massive cottage and has been snoring away in the next room for the past hour. Gaz has told him that he's going to just fly around and keep an eye out- just in case if the enemies somehow find themselves through the dense woods and into this clearing.

They really were lucky, Price thinks. According to you, the woods were a force themselves. Navigating through it, especially at night, is practically impossible. Compasses don't work. There's no signal and, of course, any type of aircraft just fail here. The woods are miles long and unless you packed enough supplies- it's suicide to dive back in and try to find your way out. It's just that sometimes the woods can help you, and sometimes the woods just gives you Mother Nature's middle finger and kills you. So there's that.

Naturally, the team was suspicious.

1) The explanation made no sense. 2) They were just outnumbered by a ton of enemies and to stumble upon this welcoming lot is... well, it's too good to be true, yeah? 3) You and your family are just way too happy. 3.1) There are no guys in your family. Your mother stated that men generally just wandered in, the family would treat them, and then they go away by themselves after a few nights. 3.2) Honestly, all of you look the same. Maybe there's like, a difference in hairstyles, body types, and obvious age gaps between the women here and there, but Jesus… Gaz has already made the mistake of confusing you, your cousins, your many sisters, and other random girls multiple times last night. 3.3) Scratch out the 'massive cottage' you guys claimed it to be. It's a mansion. Your 'family' is very large. There are many aunts, other women, cousins, other girls that were adopt into the family- Just no men. All living under the same roof and might as well be an army itself with how efficient you all did your tasks.

That said, it's very rude to point guns at innocent, clueless civilians. You, an adorably chubby, little bumblebee-hybrid (identifiable by the two rather pathetic buzzing wings behind your back), opened the door to them last night and stared blankly at their guns before cheerily ushering them in without freaking your head out. Next thing they knew, they got some quality homecooked meals cooked and served before them, plenty of drink (the honey mead everyone shared is excellent), proper treatment with their wounds (with... herbs), and warm beds. Ghost had stayed up the whole night and snooped around (just in case) but reported nothing interesting except for a few old hunting rifles and some overdue library books. Yes, each girl did carry a tiny foraging knife, but he's pretty certain they could still punt them like footballs ten at a time.

Morning comes- the team properly introduce themselves without being too specific of their occupation. There was a great deal of oohing and aahing as Price unfolded his one wing. His smoke did cause one girl to faint and her mother quickly asked for Price to... stop. He did his best and has, for now, stopped smoking his cigar. Everyone just steered clear from Ghost. Many children were petting Soap's head and playing with his fluffy tail, and others were stroking Gaz's wings.

Despite all the attention, Price's gaze is always on you. Maybe it was because of the fact that he's seen you first. You were just the cutest out of all of them. He wanted to whisk you away just to squish every soft part of your body and have you cuddled up beside him in his nest back home.

He's sorely disappointed to be told that he needs to return to bed so that his wounds can heal faster. No matter. The window gives him a very nice view of the clearing outside. Some girls are tending to the farm. Others are beekeeping. Plenty have gone to the outskirts of the forest to forage or hunt. Soap has offered to go out with the girls and they gladly accepted his help. (Tomorrow, he'll get off of this bed and join everyone too.)

Right now, you're picking the berries in your garden. It's amusing to watch you. Sometimes you bend over to pluck a few pretty flowers too- he's gotten a very nice view of your plump arse here and there. He's watched you buzz your small wings to just barely get a foot in the air and pluck an apple off the tree. Oh, how he wished to simply go out to lift you up himself... Your weight would be nothing to him.

From his observations, he's smartly deduced: Your body is round. Your little wings aren't designed for distance.

He loves the way you'd burrow your nose into any flower. Sometimes you remind him of Johnny's eagerness by the way you'd get a bit too enthusiastic and faceplant into the bed of flowers to take in the scent.

Price watches you get up, bump into your cousin (or is it sister? Or is this another girl? He couldn't be arsed), and the two of you collectively squeaked and apologized at the same time. Adorable. Fascinating. Beautiful. He hasn't felt this way ever since the time he xaight the glimpse of the shiny Excalibur in that stupid rock.

The lunch horn has been blown. He's been told that today's meal would be freshly baked bread and creamy chicken with wild rice soup. There’ll be tea and coffee for the drinks.

Been missing a very specific type of stories I used to revisit on cai when I used to use it. So I decided to make a small self indulgent art inspired by those bots.

In my head Flower is a bit chaotic kid that is stubborn and thinks he knows best and doesn't want help from anyone or to be taken care of cuz he's too 'big' for that, while Ghost is his foster dad (or something like that) who tries to help him. I drew and mentioned only Ghost, but I fully see this 'story' as poly!141 type shit.

Also here's like a oneshot type thing I accidentally wrote for this drawing.

Flower has been stubborn all week, avoiding everyone except for meals or to inform them that he's leaving and tell them when he's coming back (usually sometimes not even that). And now that Friday has come, Flower was itching to go out. See friends, maybe have a smoke or drink or two, just let loose.

So, without even thinking he packed a bag for the night (extra clothes, water, a few snacks be snuck from the kitchen and nausea medicine) and quickly put on his sneakers. He walked downstairs and mindlessly called out: "going out, be back by tommorow!".

Suddenly, as Flower was about to exit the house, black smoke appeared infront of him. Flower wasn't suprised when out of it Ghost appeared, he was already used to the wraith hybrid and his.. many habits.

Flower was just about to squeeze by him and be on his merry way, when Ghost placed his hand on Flowers shoulder. After a shorter pause, Ghost spoke in his usual gruff tone: "be back by 10."

Flower's face scrunched up a bit and said: "yea. Alright. See ya at 10." It didn't take a genius to figure out that Flower wouldn't be back by 10and just said it so to get Ghost off his ass. Yet still, Ghost nodded and moved out of the way. Letting Flower leave.

...

Time quickly passed for Flower, he met up with some of his friends after a lengthy travel. They all found the perfect park where they sat around, drank a bit of cheap vodka they bought, listened and terriably sang along.

Flower missed this. He knew maybe it wasn't the best way to spend some of his rare free time and 'extra' cash, but it made him feel normal. Like a kid. For these few hours he didn't need to worry about his grades, his 'work' (tutoring of kids dumber or lazier then him as he liked to phrase it) or what will he do when he turns 18 and is ultimately left to truly take care of himself on his own. No, he could be just a dumb teen who was getting drunk with other dumb teens.

But as his luck had it, at exactly 10:15, Ghost unexpectedly showed up. He sighed looking disappointed: "told ya to be back by 10", suddenly picked Flower up bridal style.

The sudden stunt filled Flower with different emotions, from anger to embarrasment. In his semi drunk state, he didn't have the mental capasity to process everything, so suddenly he started squirming and trying to push Ghost away. Kicking and scrathing to be set free as he snapped "you're not in position to tell me shit! You in't my dad! So leave me the fuck alone!"

Flower could feel Ghost's arms tensing around his body a bit, but he wasn't ready when swiftly Ghost change their position. Now, Flower was over Ghost's back, held in that position my Ghost's hand that was clutching his right pant leg and right sleeve. He was carried like a soldier.

Flower still tried to struggle, yet it was futile. Ghost grabbed Flower's backpack, nodded at his friends and wordlessly left. After a short moment of silence, he said harshly "I know you don't see us as your guardiens and that's alright, but I'm doing this for your good. So, stop acting like a brat." Ghost knew he should've maybe been kinder, but fucking hell. That was like watching a 4 year old have a tantrum.

If Flower was in his 'right' mind he would've continued fighting with Ghost. But something stopped him in his tracks. His chest tightened up and he froze for a few moments, before suddenly burying his face into Ghost's shoulder blade. He didn't know how to respond, he was overwhelmed with so many emotions that all he wanted to do was cry. But he didn't. He shouldn't. He's too big to cry over stupid shit. Crying is for when somebody died, not when someone embarrases you, pulls a shot move that ends up with you embarassing yourself and then to ad the cherry on top calls you a brat.

Ghost was a bit confused by the lack of response, but decided not to prod. He walked a bit longer till they reached his car. He placed Flower into the passenger seat and then entered the drivers seat. The rest of the way back 'home' was uneventful. Flower wasn't talking or anything, not even staring out the windows. Just blankly staring at his lap, as he chewed on his lower lip and fidgeted.

The moment they got home, Ghost just sighed and told Flower to get ready for bed. He knew it was better to have a proper conversation about all this in the morning and not when the kid was clearly drunk. He lead the kid to his room and bid him good night.

Flower wordlessly obeyed and quickly changed into pjs and went to bed. He didn't want to deal with his thoughts. They were too loud, overwhelming, making him feel so small in comperassion. Luckily, he had drunk enough that the moment he layed in bed, he practically passed out.

“It’ll be fine, Si.”

“It’s just a quick recovery Op. There and back in no time.”

“I’ll be done ‘n dusted before you’re finished with the rookies’ PT.”

The words echoed in the back of his head. Distorted by the chill that climbed up the back of his spine as he felt the shadows bleeding from his skin. The world around him barely registered, the veil between nightmares and reality blurring together until he watched Roba’s men cower in front of him. Vaguely he was aware of the warmth leeching into his mask, a pressure along his gums building until elongated fangs pressed through the skin.

He could feel the fabric tear beneath his fingers, talons forcing their way through his nailbeds until they hooked through the material in front of him. It was impossible to see through the red smoke surrounding him, a desperate rage fueled by vitriol and fear pushing him through the barriers in front of him. He tried to remember where he was – what had sparked the anger searing through his bones.

Flashes of a broken smile, torn lips pulled back into what was supposed to be reassurance. Slate grey eyes standing out in horrific contrast to the broken blood vessels surrounding them. Dark bruises and discolored skin. Tattered clothes with fresh crimson soaking into the material, sticking painfully against new and old wounds with each movement. It hit too close to home.

Too close to Coahuila.

To Roba.

“Ghost-! Wait-.”

The words echoed around him, familiar but aggressive.

Worried.

             Panicked.

They were in danger.

She was in danger.

The aggression flared back to life. Wrath and violence cut through his flesh until it sunk hooks into muscle. A mind numbing cold settled across his bones, the now familiar taste of death heavy across his tongue as the shadows leaked from his lungs. The darkness was familiar and safe – power that had saved them when nothing else could.

Intoxicating and freeing.

They wouldn’t go back.

“We lost contact with Alpha Team.” Muscles coiled along his spine, jaw clenching until he tasted copper at the back of his throat. “Response Team is MIA.”

He felt bone beneath his palm, teeth biting into the flesh with each blow. The cold metallic scent was overpowered by rot. Sulfur and ash filled his lungs until he felt the dark clouds permeate his skull, pressure building behind his eyes with each swipe he took at the phantoms. He could hear Roba’s voice now, mocking and condescending as the man sneered down at him.

Taunts countered by a soft caustic sarcasm. A gentle warmth surrounded by jagged barbs. The anger was palpable – familiar. It spoke to a shared understanding. They were the same. Shadows curled inward, tearing through flesh and bone until they hooked into the soul. Gnashing teeth and jagged claws biting into the essence of their target.

“Simon!”

The voice tore through the darkness like a beacon. A searing spotlight targeting the stilled heart beneath the shadows and death. A quiet warmth blossomed amidst the blizzard. Twisting and churning until he could feel the ice melting from his ribs. The surrounding shadows shuddered. Coiling vipers melting back against the ground, basking in the sun as the figure moved forward.

He became acutely aware of the viscera embedded beneath his claws. The metallic tang of blood heavy in the air as something soft ghosted across his cheeks to settle along his jaw. The crimson mist surrounding him slowly faded, darkness bleeding back into the corners of his mind as the sun settled across his skin. The lingering shadows around him hummed at the familiar comfort, heat buzzing along his spine as grey pools clashed with black. The monochrome calm before a storm staring back at him through the waves of aggression and fear.

“Simon-.”

She was solid now.

Real.

A physical manifestation of patience and forgiveness reaching up to counter the manifestation of malice and hate. Her hold was absolute. Fingers hooked with a gentle resolution around his jaw. An unyielding tether that pulled him further and further out of the storm until his forehead rested against something solid.

“Hey, hey… Need you back with us, yeah?”

Her voice was quiet. Words spoken so softly he was afraid they’d shatter if he moved too quickly. The pressure against his forehead continued, a firm reassurance that the threat had passed.

“They’re gone now, Si.” She assured. “It’s over- We’re safe.”

Black recedes into an endless forest. Brown clashing with grey as the man resurfaces, the wraith lingering so closely he could feel its breath enveloping them. Inky black shadows danced around them, coiling like protective vipers until the world outside was hidden away. Somewhere beyond the smoke and shadow he could sense the other occupants of the room, anxiety buzzing through their bones as they lingered.

He expected the same fear from the grey eyed woman. A caustic voice pouring venom into his ear with each dull thud against his ribs. Despite the voices – in spite of the voices – the woman remained calm. Worry and anxiety hooking painfully into his chest as she clung to his frame. Gentled reassurances passed bruised lips in waves. They were barely a whisper, warmth sparking anew in his chest with the realization.

It was just for him.

Images of a broken body flickered behind his eyes. The devastation replaced by wide grins and gleaming teeth. Elbows digging playfully into his side as her smaller frame moved around the shared kitchen in their den – home. Flickers of irritated glares and frowns that didn’t match gleaming eyes. The clean scent of spices and flowering hibiscus chasing away the smell of rotten graves and heavy blood.

“Y’with me, Si?”

“…Always…”

The assurance went deeper than the promise they’d made all those years ago. An oath spoken in dark stillness before they were dragged into the grave. It was unyielding and unbending, one of the natural truths that they’d built on their shared foundation. There was nowhere either could go that the other wouldn’t follow. Something recognized even by the harsh malevolence of the wraith trapped beneath their ribs.

Her eyes crinkled at his response. Relief flooding her features until it washed away the lingering worry, frame. Her hands shifted from his cheeks, ghosting across his neck until they hooked behind his shoulders. A tired sigh escaped her as she buried her face in his shoulder, body sagging against his. A frown pulled at his lips, arms encasing her smaller frame as she muttered quietly into his neck.

Simon had lost control.

She had expected him to snap to some extent. He’d bordered on over-protective since he’d pulled them from the grave in Coahuila. But the wraith in front of her was positively feral. It wasn’t Simon tearing through the enemy right now –

It was Ghost.

A physical manifestation of all the man’s fear and hate and malice. A creature born of desperation and survival now tearing through soldiers with such lethality that it made what was once a specialized force nothing more than victims. The distance between their skills too large to be considered adversaries.

They never stood a chance.

“Lass – stay back!”

She knew Soap meant well.

He was just looking out for her. Just as desperate to reach through the swirling darkness to the man trapped within the wraith. But she knew better – she’d been there. Trapped beneath her ribs sat the same malignant rage. A ravenous aggression that would raze cities to the ground to protect the precious few she clung to.

“Simon!”

She lunged towards him, fingers curling against the Scotsman’s arm as he hauled her backwards. She couldn’t feel the ache of her wounds. Pain dulling as her attention zeroed in on the feral wraith tearing through the enemy in front of them. Panic built in her chest, throat twisting painfully as she threw herself forward.

She knew what he was seeing.

She recognized the shuttering breaths and swirling smoke. Eyes that passed over them without really seeing them. She could feel the mounting fear in her skin. A cold desperation settling deeper in her bones with each wide arching slash of incorporeal claws. She could practically hear Roba’s jeering words and the suffocating darkness of the grave.

They were running out of time.

“Simon-!”

Her elbow dug into the werewolf’s stomach. His grip loosening just enough that she was able to surge forward. The shadows struck out on instinct. Ghosting across her skin with all the aggression of an evening breeze. Despite the vitriol crackling at the surface, she was able to slip through the swirling darkness.

Recognized.

She could feel the familiar pressure along her spine. Breath leaving her in thick grey clouds as she bolted through the shadows. A forgotten heaviness settled in her ribs, chill causing a shiver to break out across her skin as she reached out towards the rampaging wraith. He’d turned towards her at her approach, black eyes unseeing until her fingers settled across his jaw.

His feral state made him taller. Frame dwarfing hers until she was forced to roll onto her toes to reach him. The pads of her fingers settled gently as she pulled his face down towards hers, forehead resting against the chilled flesh of his. Grey intertwined with black, old wounds leaking fading smoke that was quickly suffocated by the swirling mass surrounding her.

“Hey, hey…” She cooed quietly, forcing her words to remain calm. “Need you back with us, yeah?”

She prayed they reached the man within the wraith. Eyes clenching shut when the shadows shuttered around her. Anxiety spiked as her grip tightened. She knew the rest of the pack was afraid – not necessarily of the feral state but of the possibilities.

An uncontrolled wraith could be devastating.

Was devastating.

There was no end to the possibilities.

“They’re gone now, Si.” She felt herself mutter, eyes sliding close as a wave of fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. “It’s over- we’re safe.”

It was a quiet reassurance.

A promise.

The shadows shuttered around her again. The darkness that had leaked from his lungs began to fade. Inky black slowly swallowed by white as brown orbs turned towards her. The shadows enveloping her hissed, thick arms settling across her back while large hands grasped at the back of her shoulders. Simon’s frame was visible again, all but curling around the battered woman as he took shuttering breaths between clenched teeth.

The chill of death was melting from his bones, muscles relaxing with a painstakingly slowness as the darkness continued to melt back beneath his skin. Without the smoke to obscure it the battle sat openly across his frame. Viscera and gore clinging to his uniform and skin, painting a macabre scene across new and old scars. The heavy metallic scent was overpowering, almost suffocating the familiar spices and smoke she’d come to expect.

“Y’with me, Si?”

It was always the same question.

Simple at the surface but with deeper meaning that was lost to the onlookers outside of their orbit. Patience and warmth tethering them to the present. Waiting unflinchingly as they broke down feral instincts and bloodlust. Peeling back the raw panic and anger that accompanied long buried memories and living nightmares.

Bloodshot brown eyes settled on her own, the far off expression slowly melting away. A jagged frown carved itself across his lips, brows furrowing as he took in each new bruise that marred her skin. For the first time since the conflict began, he was looking at her, gaze no longer trapped behind the red haze of broken bodies and desperate anger.

“…always…”

The confirmation rumbled from his chest, the assurance reverberating through her bones when his arms tightened their hold. It was an absolute; spoken with the same confidence he’d used all those years ago. Unshakable even in the face of the harshest atrocities war had to offer. More than a promise or an oath but a core belief carved into their ribs.

And she believed him.

She could feel the relieved smile curving across her lips, eyes crinkling as her shoulders sagged. The lingering worry melted away, hand lightly tapping his cheek before they slid down his neck to hook behind his shoulders. The fatigue seeped into the space fear had left behind, a tired sigh pulled from her chest as she tucked her face into his shoulder. Simon’s arms encased her, all but wrapping around her frame as she sagged against him.

“Might’ve been a lil off on that return date.” She muttered into his neck, ignoring the way his shoulders rocked with a sarcastic scoff. “Though technically I didn’t specify which PT class.”

“Whatever you say, Luv.”

“Tha’s what I thought.”