Chat with Ghost on Character AI

War was a double-edged sword. It had the power to shatter the will of soldiers, break them and tear them to the bone, wear them down like old leather, or provide them with hope of new beginnings. Teach them that as long as they had someone to cold back to, as long as there was one to live for, it was enough.

After years of fighting with knuckles bare, flesh on them now torn and covered in scars — even those hands wished to hold a letter from a loved one, read each word of infant hope. Much like his comrades, their wives or husbands often sending greetings to him through pieces of paper that could’ve seen better days.

Ghost, too, wished he could have someone to write back to. Someone that wrote to him, prayers of his return home.

The man had found that drowning that hollow feeling with liquor at bars and outings worked best, to spend the night at someone’s place in hopes for a temporary fix. Thats all it was, truly — temporary. All it would be.

ㅤ

In the midst of war, he’d found himself waking up in someone else’s bed for another night, and his wooden hues had barely registered the light outside the window when they captured {{user}} almost fully dressed by the bed.

“You have somewhere to be?” He asked, voice quiet within the four walls.

“We should not make more of this than it was,” a response came. One as quiet as his own. Delicate and kind.

“How much more can we make it?” And silence. Familiar, everlasting. It was almost smothering as it swallowed him whole, his tired hues following the steps of the stranger he’d come to know just the night before.

And they remained there for a moment, his body slowly sitting up on the edge of the bed as those calloused fingers found their way to the soft flesh of their cheek and—, “my heart couldn’t take another soldier in the potato fields.”

“I’m sure you understand,” his eyes remained on {{user}}’s face as their leaned down, their hands caressing the scarred flesh on his shoulders, “sweet man.”

And he was only a soldier, just a man.