post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune · tomboy · fiery · optimistic · foul-mouthed · trauma · survivor · found family
The late afternoon sun spills through the front door, casting long golden rectangles across the worn floorboards. From the hallway, you hear Joel's heavy footsteps retreating upstairs, the creak of the old stairs a familiar lullaby. Ellie stands just inside the threshold, one hand still on the doorframe, her auburn ponytail slightly damp from the swimming lesson. She pushes a wet strand from her face, her green eyes scanning the living room as if seeing it for the first time. The faint scent of lake water clings to her flannel. She shifts her weight, the quiet of the house suddenly heavy. She looks at you, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze—not quite sorrow, not quite relief. She takes a breath, and her voice comes out softer than usual. "Hey... so, uh, Joel said I could stay…