Bookworm
Based of this post i made. GN Reader
If he was sure about one thing, it was your avid love and passion for reading, he could leave you with a book alone while a worked in his office or went to run errands and you wouldn't have moved at all, expect to change the position you were reading in. You were absorbed into your own private worlds, books of different genres layed scattered around the house, stacked up agaisnt each other on any surface you could find to place one, on overcrowed shelves and side tables, even tucked up against the wall on the floor.
It was cute to see you nosedeep in whatever book you were reading but it did concern him to some extent, he managed to sneak up on you a few times, having to physically drag you to eat or to rest your eyes.
Well, by sneaking, more like louding stomping around the house, purposley making as much noise as possible, still you sat and read undisturbed by his actions.
Nothing seemed to work, the amount of books now meant he's accidentally walked into a stack on the floor or nearly had a a few fall off the shelves they cluttered, "Are you planning on moving this anytime soon?" He asked, looking in you direction.
You sat on the sofa, a blanket over your legs and a book you were somehow already nearing half way through even though it was bought a week ago, laid open on your lap, not looking up from the words you were focusing on, you nodded absent mindlessly, eyes never leaving the paper back in front of you, turing the page to start the next chapter and curling up more under the blanket.
He sighed, knowing he wouldn't get an answer from you in a while, he couldn't complain about the placements, the only spare room in the house was turned into his at home office, his own space he can retreat to if needed, so getting mad that you turned the living room into your own space was wrong,
It was only fair you got your own space, an area where you could read and store your books without worry, and so he could easy know where you were.
After reaching the midway point of the novel, bookmarking it with the bookmark he bought you as a gift after you looked at him in disgust when he told you to dog-ear the page like he does, moving the blanket from your legs and stretched. Looking around, the lack of books around caught you off guard, it instantly became clear how clean and decluttered everything looked, like you could finally breathe after drowning for so long.
"Where'd all my books go?" you mutter to yourself, getting up from where you've been sitting for who knows how long, a noise from the sunroom caught your attention, it was at the far back of the house and neither you nor he used it for much other than storage.
Calling out to him, knocking on the door to the room before opening it, he stops you " Darling! Wait there, i wanna show you something." he called from inside, sounding a little out of breath, you sighed hoping it wasn't another one of his retreat rooms, "It's not done yet." a loud noise followed by the sound of him grunting, like he was moving something around.
Puzzled, you waited outisde the room, unsure of what was happening that was so important, "Have you seen my books?" you asked him from the other side of the door, crossing your arms over your chest, "I can't find them anywhere." you add. Finally the door opens just enough for him to squeeze out and to keep whatever was inside hidden, "What was that?" you question him again, even more confused than before.
He smiled at you, taking you hand in his, "I have seen you books, so don't be mad at me." he explained, "I found somewhere for you to put them, i know you have a habit of going into that pretty head of yours when reading." That explanation did nothing to help your curiosity. He motioned to you stand in front of the sunroom door, with him behind you.
"I hope you like it, took me hours." He kissed the back of your head, reaching out from behind you to open the door.
The sight in front of you left you speechless, a whole mini library was there, right in fron of your eyes. Taking a few steps into the now renovated room, taking in the sight, a double loveseat big enough to hold two people, was pushed up agaisnt the far right wall, complete with pillows and a throw blanket over the back of it. A singular arm chair in the left corner sat with its own pillow, propped neatly in the center of the chair. Bookshelevs, both refurbished and handmade lined every available wall, reaching upwards towards the ceiling and skylights, creating a warm and cozy feeling. A ladder, which you noticed was on a whell system, sat attache to the larger bookshelf in the room. A decent sized coffee table was placed in front of the double love set, already with a few book ready to be read.
A fair of arms snake their way around your waist, pulling you out of you dazed stated. "Do you like it? Thought you could have your own space to retreat and relax." he said, watching as your eyes looked from one thing to another, "I tried my best to order them how you like it, hopefully it's ok." sheepishly he smiled, his eyes never leaving your awestruck expression.
Turning to him with the biggest smile on your face he's ever seen, you hug him tightly, squeezing him as you buried you face in the crook of his neck, giving him chase butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw, each a silent thank you for his gift and effort. "I love it, thank you so much." you reply, letting go so you explore your new personal space, running you fingers over the polished sheleves, scaaning the small decor pieces and details he added, little trinkets he brought back for you from his travles.
He sat down on the sofa, watching in adoration as you wondered around your new private world, reading the titles off the spines of the books on the shelves, happy with himself and his work, ignoring the gnawing feeling that he'll have to possibly make a new section soon when you inevitably run out of space. You grabbed a book of one of the shelves and made your way over to him, settling down between his legs, getting comfortable with his back slightly agaisnt the back of the sofa and the armrest, one leg streched out on the loveseat with you perched in betweem his legs.
His arms were back around your waist the second you stopped moving, you grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of your legs, arranging so it covered you both completly, your back against his chest and his arms around your waist, you set the novel you choose down on your lap and opened it.
A sigh can be heard behind you, smiling softly to yourself, he's not moving anytime soon and you know he just figured that out. A few minutes after you opened the book, you feel another set of eyes peering over your shoulder at the pages in front of you, "Are you reading over my shoulder?" you playfully ask, earning a grunt in response. Giggling as you readjust the book, so he could totaly not read over your shoulder.
Whatever he had planned today wasn't going to happen and can wait, this is more important.
-- Simon "Ghost" Riley, Captian John Price, Nikolai, John “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz Garrick”, Logan Howlett and any f/o you can think of
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Ghoap god type au part 4! Now on Ao3!
part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7
I have not slept in A While because meds are meds so I don't know if this makes sense! Let's Go!!!
And shout out to these people for making me happy stim by requesting to be tagged! I hope this chapter is worthy of such an honor lmao:
@imjustheretofightforlove / @pieckyghost / @life-as-a-gamergirl
Ghost doesn’t know why he continued to give offerings to the god. He should have stopped when he had the chance, but he didn’t. Flowers, jewelry, rocks he thought looked cool, even an entire wallet he stole from a soldier who got on his nerves; It all went on the offering table.
Something had changed. He doesn’t know what, but there was a difference. And not knowing was terrifying. Ghost liked to compartmentalize, to think things through and sort them into organized boxes. Decluttering the unknown was how he stayed sane.
If there is a problem, do not panic, just figure out what you can do. And if you can do nothing, then you have no reason to panic. The rigid line of thought was the only way he could trick himself into thinking he had any control over his life, that fate hadn’t already woven her strings.
So how do you think through something beyond your comprehension?
Try as he might, he could not and would never be able to truly understand divinity. There was no rationale he could apply to Soap that didn’t make his ears ring. It was all well within arms reach but firmly out of his grasp.
He shouldn’t continue to show patronage to something so unpredictable, so volatile.
“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”
And yet, every night he would take his dinner to whatever lousy altar he’d created and sit down to eat with an entity that could kill him without raising a finger, would eat and talk to him like they were friends. He’s not sure of when he lost his fucking mind, but it was certainly long gone.
Everything about the god terrified him. It was ancient, domineering over one of the most prevalent parts of humanity. Everything had to die someday, and at the end of it all, Soap would still be there, even as it died too.
So when he appeared behind Ghost at a bookstore of all places, he damn near shit himself.
He just wanted a book to occupy his time between battles, a distraction from the boredom of downtime. It was the same town as before, barely a few weeks since their impromptu meeting in the temple. He had been perusing the shelves and grabbed a book that caught his eye, some book about the history of the town, and was reading the back of it when someone was very suddenly right next to him.
“Anything interesting?”
Ghost flinched, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there as he turned to face the person who somehow got the jump on him. And just like everything else with the god, he doesn’t know how he knew that the person was Soap in disguise.
He looked nothing like the renditions he’d seen of the god; The man before him was short and had pale skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes. He looked about as non-descript as a human could get. Yet, he still knew that the man was no man at all, but a god that came from the heavens just to make his life miserable.
“Why are you here?” Ghost was too on edge and confused to put the fearful respect in his tone that he normally used when speaking to the god.
“I just came here to look for books, the same as you,” he replied, trying to keep a straight face and play it earnestly but smiling far too much.
Ghost didn’t dignify that with a response, continuing to stare down at him, book still in hand.
Soap sighed, “Alright, alright Mr. Grumpy, maybe I wanted to talk to you again.”
Ghost asked, “Why?” But he realized that probably wouldn’t get him the answer he wanted, “What do you need to talk about?” He was hoping to cut through the small talk and jump right to the essentials.
“I said want. Not need.” Soap corrected. When Ghost looked even more exasperated, he whisper-shouted, “I’ve been stuck in limbo for who the fuck knows how long! I need stimulation! Interaction! Conversation! Anything!”
Oh, gods above, this is the worst torture the god could have devised. He’d rather take eternal pain and misery over becoming a chatty god’s only conversation partner. Fuck, he’s done a lot of bad shit, but nothing to deserve this!
The god grabbed the book out of his hand from where he was still standing petrified and dumbfounded. Soap looked at the book, hummed, and then began browsing the aisle himself.
Soap mused aloud, “I’m not surprised you’re a history nerd… Is there anything else here that’s more interesting?”
A few weeks ago, the god had been so weak he could barely conjure a physical form, now he was in a bookstore to make fun of him?
“The god of death is calling me a nerd with shit taste.” Ghost hadn’t meant to vocalize that thought, but he was still trying to mentally catch up.
It seemed to catch the god off guard as well, with him snorting as he tried to cover his mouth to stop from laughing, “I didn’t mean ye’ have shit taste, I meant history isn’t an interesting read when you lived through it.”
And at Ghost’s core, he was nothing if not a pain, so even as he was scrambling to figure out what was happening, he pointed out, “But you weren’t alive. You said you were in limbo.”
“Okay, smart-ass. Alive, limbo, whatever. I need a story — one I haven’t heard before.”
“Do you even know how to read?”
His accent became thicker with indignation, “‘Course I do!”
“This language?” Ghost asked, gesturing to the shelves.
Soap immediately responded, “Ye—,” he cut himself off, looking at the book he grabbed from Ghost. It was upside-down and he twisted his hand awkwardly to have it back upright, squinting at it as he answered, now positive, “Yeah!”
Ghost mumbled, “Hmm, I figured you’d only be able to read dead languages.”
That one got a full laugh out of the god, he desperately tried to quiet his chuckles before they were told off for being too loud. Ghost isn’t sure why, but he felt oddly proud.
Soap was still smiling in an effort to stop laughing as he said, “That would make sense I suppose.” It seemed that not being able to laugh only made the situation funnier, huffing air out of his nose in a quiet giggle. “Well! What book would you suggest?”
Ghost pointed to the other side of the bookstore, “I’d suggest you stop looking in the non-fiction section.”
Soap looked around, muttering a curse under his breath. Seeing where Ghost had pointed, Soap grabbed his hand and dragged him along. Ghost was too surprised by the sudden contact to fight it, which was probably for the best. He may love his personal space, but he loved not getting smote even more.
“Okay, well, now what book would you suggest?” Soap repeated himself, this time not bothering to browse the shelves as he looked at Ghost for a recommendation.
Sighing in resignation, “What genres do you like?” If he could get this done with quickly enough, he might still have some time to himself before he had to return to camp.
“I don’t know. All of them I guess.”
He is not going to get this done with quickly enough to have some time to himself before he has to return to camp.
Ghost let out an even longer sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before coming to a solution. The store had their books sorted by genre, so it would be easy enough to grab one or two from each and then get Soap to pick one.
The god of death’s personal shopper. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Luckily for both of them, Ghost has had an exorbitant amount of downtime and knew of a few popular ones that weren’t complete garbage. Death seemed content to trail behind him as he picked out the books, admiring the simple building.
The store had large windows facing west, golden light stretching over the shelves and reaching across the floor to tell Ghost how much time he was wasting. The smart thing would have been to just grab a random book, sing its praises, and hope he didn’t get called out on his bullshit. Of course, that would require being smart, so instead Ghost went through almost the entire fiction section, ending with a total of seven books.
The stack of books was ridiculously tall as he set them down on a table at the back, intending to explain them to Soap and let him pick a couple.
“This is everything, one book each from most of the genres.” Ghost backed away when Soap stepped closer, looking like an owl as he turned his head sideways to read the spines. Ghost gave up trying to understand the god.
He pointed to the one on top, “This one is—“
“Fantastic! I’ll take them all,” Soap said, completely ignoring what Ghost was about to say.
“What?”
“I’ll take them all!” Soap repeated, as if he hadn’t been clear enough the first time. He grabbed the stack of books, adding the one he’d snatched from Ghost to the pile as he walked to the counter.
“But… You don't have any money…” Ghost’s quiet protest went unheard as Soap walked away. He had a small existential crisis as he wondered what mistake he made that led him to this exact moment. He decided the mistake was being born as he followed after the god of death, knowing he probably wouldn’t have enough to cover the books.
Soap set down the books next to the cash register and gleefully asked, “How much for all of these?”
The shopkeeper looked a little surprised at the size of the stack but began checking them and adding up the cost. Even without seeing the number, Ghost was already bemoaning having to explain to a divine being how the economy and poverty work.
But apparently, Soap wasn’t done confusing him as he grabbed a wallet out of his pocket and began pulling out credits as the shopkeeper gave the total.
At first, Ghost checked his own pocket thinking Soap had managed to steal his wallet and was in for a rude awakening when he found out Ghost was broke, but his wallet was still there. He wasn’t going to ask in front of the shopkeeper where he got it, but curiosity was eating at him.
Ghost stared at the wallet. He recognized it vaguely but didn’t know from where. It was only when Soap was putting it away that he realized it was the one he’d stolen from that annoying soldier and offered to the god.
And who said your misdeeds come back to haunt you?
Once the books were all bagged, Soap gestured towards it and Ghost sighed as he grabbed the paper bag, supporting the bottom as it was lifted off the counter. Mirroring the same motion, Ghost gestured towards the door. Part of him was curious if the god would pop back out of existence when he walked into the light like he did last time.
Ghost whispered once they were far enough away, “You know I stole that wallet, right?”
Soap snorted, “That’s what made it one of my favorites.”
Ghost let go of the handles of the bag, only holding it from the bottom, and opened the door for Soap. Soap nodded in thanks like everything that had transpired over the last two or so hours was a normal interaction.
Fortunately, the god did not vanish upon stepping outside, disproving his theory.
No, it was unfortunate. He wanted this to be done with. He didn’t want to keep talking to Soap.
His mouth didn’t seem to get the memo as he started to ask, “Why did you actu—”
“Ghost!”
The shout from someone behind him immediately sucked out any positive feelings he had. His usual glare was back as he turned to face the voice. There were two soldiers, a miserable little search party that looked disgusted at even having to go near Ghost.
“The General needs you for something.”
Of fucking course he does. He risked a glance to where Soap had been standing, unsurprised to see that he’d vanished. Ghost didn’t give them a verbal answer, just glared at them until they both began shifting where they were standing.
He felt a little relieved at being able to put the threatening tone back in his voice as he informed them, “I’ll be back before dinner.”
The one that spoke before looked to his partner and tried to forcefully say, “He needs you now.”
Ghost stepped closer, looming over them as he repeated, “I said I will be back before dinner.” He waited a moment, making sure they were properly threatened before he turned around and walked in the opposite direction of camp.
“Why were you at a bookstore?” One of them called out, almost accusatory as if it would stop him from leaving. He had forgotten about the rumor that he couldn’t read; He doesn’t know how it started, but it was a favorite amongst his fellow soldiers.
“What bookstore?” Ghost yelled back, not bothering to turn around.
The forest looked beautiful in the orange light of the setting sun. He was heading back to the temple, not because he missed Soap, but because it was the only place they wouldn’t be able to find him. If he really was needed, there would be soldiers crawling all over town searching for him.
He didn’t like going somewhere so secluded without his sword, but it was back at camp and he was not going back yet, wanting to piss off the general as much as he could. He hadn’t wanted to walk into the village with such an obvious weapon on his hip out of respect for the residents, but now it meant he only had a hunting knife to defend himself with. Nothing to sneeze at, obviously, but he would have felt a lot more comfortable making the hike through the forest with a heavier weapon.
A chill began to take hold as the sun dipped below the horizon. A cold front came through a few days prior that made sure the days were a lovely charming example of the upcoming fall weather and that the nights were frigid enough to make anyone regret not being on a tropical island.
He made the trek much quicker this time, now knowing the path. Which was a very good thing as the shadows grew stronger as he made his way through the trees, trying to make him trip on roots that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
When he got to the temple, he set the bag down and made quick work of gathering a small amount of firewood and kindling with the last of the waning sunlight, the chill turning into a freezing wind. His fingers shook slightly as he made a small campfire near the empty doorway to the right of the statue, paranoid about proper ventilation even with all of the cracks in the roof.
Using the light to see, he pulled down some of the vines, setting both them and the greener wood near the fire. Hopefully, they would dry quickly enough to be used later in the night. He quickly sorted through the books, taking them out and setting Soap’s collection to the side.
He was trying to read the first page of his book when Soap appeared again. He didn’t look up as he greeted, “Good evening.”
“I do not like the way they treat you.” The god was blunt and Ghost couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the amount of simmering anger the god held over what was a standard interaction for him.
“No?” Ghost asked, wondering why being told to return to camp was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
But he may have underestimated Soap’s anger as the god answered, “No. They don’t get to speak to you like that.” The sentence was punctuated by the campfire flaring slightly, the flames suddenly rising higher, illuminating more of the temple before they rescinded.
Ghost looked up at that, moving the book away to stop it from getting singed. He was not ashamed to admit that he was nervous, he just would never tell Soap that. To have him suddenly swap from someone friendly and charming to an undeniably pissed-off god was alarming.
“Uh—”
“They treat you like a fucking dog and can’t even speak to you with a shred of respect?”
The god’s form was flickering. This is what Ghost wanted, to know the tipping point for the god, but he wasn’t sure if this was the scenario in which he wanted to find out. He’d prefer for it to have been on the battlefield, the god having lost its patience with protecting him, not next to a campfire in his own temple.
“Soap—”
“Why do you fucking stay? They have no fucking right!”
The flames flared again and Ghost grabbed the handle of his knife. Just like the last time he was at the temple, he knew it would do nothing, but he could at least find comfort in the lie.
Soap noticed the movement, making eye contact. Soap was still breathing heavily and Ghost was doing the same, albeit for very different reasons. The god heaved a sigh, slouching over as he covered his face with his hands.
Once more, despite all rationale screaming otherwise, Ghost stayed. There was a long silence, the only noise being the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the wind.
The god was sitting with his legs crossed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands propped up his head. He was still staring at the ground when he asked, “Why? Why do you stay?”
“It’s complicated.”
Soap looked unimpressed, “No, it isn’t.”
“No,” Ghost agreed. “But it’s a story I don’t like to tell.”
The god let out a long breath like he was trying to calm himself down as he rubbed at his eyes, “Didn’t you say you’d be back for dinner?”
“I lied. Late morning at the earliest.” Soap chuckled, much more tinged with defeat than it had been a few hours ago. The silence was back and Ghost hesitated before grabbing his book again.
“Thank you.”
Ghost wasn’t expecting that and felt a bolt of panic strike through him, not knowing what the god was thanking him for.
Soap gestured towards the stack of books, “For humoring me today. I haven’t laughed in a long time. Thank you.”
The somber tone settled over him, the emotional whiplash from the past ten minutes alone was enough to make his head spin. Unsure of what else to say, he stuttered, “You’re welcome.” It sounded a lot more like a question than he intended.
Soap nodded and let his head fall again.
And, just like that, he was gone, fading away with the wind. He stared at where the god sat, ruminating over his words. When he came back to the present, he saw that the books were gone as well.
He would have laughed, Death having grabbed his haul of books and scurried off in the breeze, but the honesty behind the god’s not-quite confession weighed on him. He tried to read, but was only flipping pages as his eyes ran over the words, not taking anything in.
He’s been in this situation before, waiting out time to piss off the general and he knew how it went. Sleep wasn’t an option; He always found something to occupy himself with to stave off the inevitable boredom. He was lucky to have a book this time, but try as he might, he couldn’t focus on it.
He gave up on reading and instead turned his focus to the campfire in front of him. He added another log carefully, taking care to not smother any of the other sticks. He didn’t have much fuel and he’d need to make it last until sunrise.
Ghost woke up to light streaming in through the open doorway and birds chirping obnoxiously loud. He grumbled and tried to go back to sleep before remembering that he was never supposed to be asleep in the first place.
He tried to get up quickly, to stand to attention and scan for any threats or changes that indicated someone had come in during his nap. Instead, he sat up slowly, having to prop himself up on his arm to not lie back down.
His fire was miraculously still burning. The temple looked the same, there weren’t any assassins hiding in the corners, and his stuff hadn’t moved. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to remember that he never went to sleep with a blanket or pillow, yet now had both.
Instead of thinking about that, he stood slowly, his joints popping along the way. He yawned as he gathered his stuff, smothering the fire and folding up his bedding. Still not even half awake, he dropped the pillow and blanket at the base of the statue.
He grumbled out what was meant to be an expression of gratitude, but he’s not sure he got any of the syllables out. Taking as deep of a breath as he could to try to wake himself up, he began the walk to the river.
It’s a miracle he didn’t get lost as he stumbled through the woods, listening for the sound of rushing water. When he finally got to it, he was sure to avoid getting too close to the slippery bank, not feeling like drowning so early in the morning.
He walked over the ramshackle bridge that crossed the river and led into camp in the early afternoon. Just like last time, most of the soldiers quieted upon seeing him. And, just like last time, the general came stomping out of his tent, though this time significantly angrier
“I need you to listen to me carefully,” he began, seething with so much anger over Ghost’s disobedience that he was twitching. “I am going to give you ten seconds to explain yourself. If you do not have a good reason for why you went AWOL, you are going to wish you had never been born, am I understood?”
Ghost had mastered the voice of false innocence and remorse, “I’m sorry General, I wasn’t paying attention and got delayed by an hour.”
“An hour?” The general had a deceptively calm tone, one that spoke of being on the edge of doing something drastic. But the general was no god and Ghost had no qualms about giving him a shove.
“Yes sir, I know I said noon. I’m sorry for being late.” Ghost hung his head like he was ashamed. He was already mapping out a lie to explain why he arrived almost a full 24 hours after the search party said he would.
“Noon?” The general asked. Both of them were playing a very dangerous game, weaponizing an unstable but calm facade and putting on a little show for the rest of camp to sit back and watch.
“Yes sir.”
“I was told that you said you’d be back before dinner.”
Ghost lifted his head and glanced around, furrowing his brow in faux confusion, “Before dinner? No sir, I was trying to hunt for something to bring back to camp. They caught me right before I went into the forest; I might have said I was trying to find something for dinner, but I knew it would take me much longer than that.” Oh, how Ghost loved gaslighting.
The general’s lip curled, thinking he found a thread to pull, “Do you normally go hunting at night, son?” The words were full of poison, but Ghost already had an excuse.
“No sir, I looked for tracks yesterday afternoon, set up camp, and woke up early this morning to hunt. Unfortunately, I was no—”
“He’s lying!” One of the soldiers shouted, walking closer and shaking off his friend trying to pull him back. “He was walking out of a store! He wasn’t hunting!” Ah, that must be one-half of the search party.
Now emboldened, the other half approached from the stables, and joined in, “Yeah, he was leaving a bookstore with some guy.”
Uh-oh, that’s not good. He didn’t realize that they saw Soap.
He was trying to figure out if he should outright deny it or try to claim that he, the notorious loner, had made a friend in town. A friend that just so happened to leave that day so they couldn’t ask for him to verify Ghost’s story. Hmm…
“What? No, he was alone.”
Never mind, that’s perfect; Only one of them saw Soap.
The two began arguing over whether or not Ghost had been alone and Ghost “timidly” chimed in, “Bookstore?”
The first one that had spoken paused his argument and turned back to the general, “He even had a shopping bag!”
Adding fuel to the flames of their anger, Ghost made a point of looking at his hands to show they were empty. He gently corrected like he was just trying to help the two remember, “I was walking out of a general store. Alone. I needed berries for bait.”
The rest of the camp gave odd looks to the search party, the rumor of his inability to read not helping their legitimacy. Now he just had to hope they didn’t ask why he didn’t have any camping or hunting supplies aside from a small bag.
The general looked more irritated than irate, “That’s enough. All three of you are being punished for insubordination. For now just get the hell out of my sight until tomorrow morning.”
Ghost tried not to smile too wide as he nodded and walked away, very happy that the general reached his limit before more glaring holes could be poked in his story. The other two looked offended at getting punished with him, one standing slack-jawed as the other even tried to argue before getting dragged away by his friend before he could dig himself a deeper grave.
Ghost was going to be punished regardless of what he did or when he returned, but dragging the other two down with him was well worth it. Plus, the rest of the camp would now think they were liars as well who tried and failed to get him punished.
All in all, it was a rather successful trip to the bookstore.
…
Had he been paying more attention, thinking more clearly, he might’ve thought to hide his tracks, to not leave an obvious trail to where’d been, to hide the evidence of his time spent at the temple of the god of death.
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