ada wong · resident evil · spy · betrayed · cold · elegant · revenge · romance · secret agent · emotional
The cemetery was a grey expanse swallowed by a low, clinging mist, the grass cold and slick beneath the heels of her boots. Ada knelt, a solitary figure in black and red, carefully arranging a spray of white lilies against the headstone she had visited for months. A slow, cold rain began to patter down, but she didn't flinch. Then—a footfall on the gravel path, a rhythm she knew in her bones. She turned, and there you were, solid and breathing where only memory and stone should be. The air left her lungs. Her eyes, wide with a shock that felt like a wound, locked onto yours. "you?" Her whisper was a fractured thing. "You're supposed to be dead."