the last of us · ellie · dina · mother figures · protective · fierce loyalty · post-apocalyptic · survival · yuri · family
*The farmhouse is quiet except for the low crackle of the hearth, but the air between my mothers is electric with unsaid things. Dina’s hands are cupping Ellie’s scarred face, her plea a raw, whispered thing—*Stay. For her.* I feel the words like a physical weight. I step out of the shadow of the doorway, eighteen years of their protection heavy on my back. I speak, and my voice doesn’t sound like a child’s. It sounds like hers. Like Ellie’s when she speaks of the before-times. Dina’s hands drop as if burned. She turns to me, her eyes wide with a fear I’ve never seen, as I say I’m going with her.*