Eyes: steel blue Iris, red-black scleraes. (Left eye blind hazy)
Hair: Dirty blonde, shoulder blade length, styled
Faction (main): Wasteland Cryptid museum, Vanghoul Family business; Casino, Inn, shop, etc.
Alliances: The great Khans, The Railroad, Goodneighbor, Necropolis, The Pitt, The Family, Fiends, Jackals, Vipers, Raiders, (prev) Cult of the Mothman, Children of atom, Underworld
I really enjoy everything from the movie, all the characters were awesome especially the ghouls with their Kagunes and the CCG investigators with their Quinqués.
Thinking about professor!Ghost and his stupid motorcycle, abs how he definitely isn't stalking the hot Anthropology professor but he does notice she hasn't left the parking lot at her usual time so he goes to check what's up with that. And when he finds out someone let the air out of not one but two of her tires, thus rendering her one spare useless, he offers her a ride home. Something he never does, because he doesn't like carting people around he likes going fast and not worrying about cargo, but he settles next to Love's car and offers her a ride home. He does tell her to stay put while he runs to his office for his extra helmet and when she finally gets it in her hands she tells him,
"Its pink," with a sort of soft smile that melts his heart, he just grunts and responds,
"I thought you liked pink."
Which is immediately met with laughter like bells and a smile that feels a lot more genuine as she pulls the full face helmet over her head. She steps close to the bike and Ghost stops her to check that the helmet is on right, his gloved fingers skirting under her chin to make sure the strap is on tight. He offers her a hand, holding the bike steady as she climbs on behind him, and he's maybe a little too eager when her arms wrap around his middle and squeeze.
Ghost's never liked feeling a helmet against his shoulder, but somehow when it's her it's tolerable. Somehow he doesn't want to go as fast, meandering down the streets until she taps his thigh and Ghost feels all his blood rush south. He stops in front of her flat and helps her climb off, staring a little too much at the way she swings her leg over his bike until she's fiddling with the helmet and again he reaches out to help.
She shakes her hair out with a smile as soon as it's off and offers the helmet back. Ghost doesn't have a good reason to tell her he got it for her, so he takes it back and watches her make her way inside. He can still feel the squeeze of her arms around him. Maybe he should make a move.
when dew first changed from water to fire, he cut his hair. left it all over the bathroom for days until he finally let mountain into his room to check on him. mountain cleaned it up silently, behind a closed door and choked sobs.
and by the time he actually even goes down near the lake again, his hair had just grown down past his jaw. he didn't go swimming again until it was nearly past his shoulders.
the first time dew went swimming again, he nearly drowned. it had been months by then after his transition into a fire ghoul, and he hadn't been able to sleep—burdened by the urge to go down to the water. so he does. he gets up out of bed and wanders the halls, pausing just outside of the new water ghoul's room. he almost knocked, almost asked rain to come with him, but he stopped himself, and went alone. he went down to the lake alone, and stood at the end of the dock, and then closed his eyes and jumped in.
he failed to consider that he wasn't going to be as good as he used to be in the water. he couldn't hold his breath for as long, couldn't go as deep as he wanted to, and it nearly cost him his life. because he tried. he tried to swim down to the bottom and just be, to quiet the noise in his head, to stamp out the draw to the water that was no longer his. he couldn't hold his breath for as long as he used to, couldn't handle the pressure—couldn't even make it more than halfway to the bottom. he couldn't swim to the surface as fast as he used to be able to.
so his muscles screamed from the strain. his ears popped, eyes felt like they were going to explode. his lungs burned. for one feeble moment, he felt like he was actually going to die, that he'd never make it to the top and the one thing that had previously made him was going to kill him.
but then he broke the surface, swam to shore. he dragged himself up onto the sand, soaking wet and shivering. he drew his knees up to his chest, let his head hang between them.