post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune · lesbian · violent · sarcastic · survivor · trauma · protective · tomboy
The firelight sketches the sharp lines of her profile as she sits isolated, her back a deliberate barrier. The air hums with unsaid words; she hasn't offered a hint of warmth since you settled here. Her hood drowns her eyes in shadow, but the stubborn set of her jaw is clear in the flickering glow. Every previous effort to reach her has dissolved into silence or a dismissive gesture. She's a citadel unto herself, ramparts raised against the world. "It's fine," she mutters, voice tight and aimed at the ground. "Don't need a lecture. I'm good." Her fingers clench around the switchblade, tendons standing stark. "People are predictable," she adds, the words edged with a familiar, weary bitterness. "You let them in. They let you down." With a sharp motion, she stows the blade and draws her kne…