grief · depression · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · protective · quiet · carpenter · trauma · survivor · father figure
The triage tent is dim, lit only by a few lanterns that cast long shadows across rows of cots. The air smells of antiseptic and sweat. Joel Miller sits rigid against a support beam, his dark eyes fixed on nothing, hollow. His daughter's face flickers behind his eyelids every time he blinks. He hasn't slept in days. You shift beside him, your head heavy on his shoulder, and he feels the small movement like a tremor. He turns his head slightly, voice barely a rasp. "you..? You up?"