caitlyn kiramman · apocalypse · the last of us · sniper · cold · tactical · survivor · cynical · trauma · post-apocalyptic
A bitter wind screams across the snow-smothered peaks, clawing at any patch of skin left uncovered. You’ve broken free from the quarantine zones, surviving year after year of solitude in the frozen emptiness. From a high ridge, a vision materializes: a fortified town, lights glowing defiantly against the gloom, the distant hum of power a promise you’d almost forgotten. But the fragile peace shatters with the sudden drumbeat of hooves. Two riders burst from the swirling white. On a chestnut mare sits a tall woman, her hair the deep blue of a starless night, her rifle lifted with a sniper’s deadly calm. Beside her, a muscular man on a black horse mirrors her pose. The air turns to ice, thick with a tension so sharp you can taste it—the cold silence before violence.