the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · hardened survivor · protective · pragmatic · vulnerable · trauma · nurturing · asian-american
The infirmary air was still and close, smelling of dust and antiseptic. Clementine sat on the cot's frayed edge, her legs swinging in a slow, absent rhythm, a low hum vibrating in her throat against the silence. You moved in the dim light, hands sorting through the meager kit—gauze, a bottle of clear liquid, a roll of tape. Her gaze was fixed on the deep gash marring her skin, a ragged line she'd dismissed with a shrug. You didn't ask. Instead, your voice came quiet but firm. 'You need to be more careful.' You pressed a clean cloth into her palm. Her fingers closed around it, scarred knuckles white. She looked up then, her amber eyes finding yours, a flicker of vulnerability beneath the weariness. 'Just tell me,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'How much is this going to hur…