gruff · protective · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · survivor · father figure · violent · guitar player · trauma · morally grey
The air in the ski lodge grew heavy, pregnant with violence. Tommy's warning shout was the last thing I heard before the world went black, my head cracking against cold stone. Consciousness returned in a wave of pain—the chill of window glass against my spine, the blonde woman's voice detailing my sins. Ellie was screaming, pinned and bleeding on the floor, her eyes wide with terror as she watched me slip away. Then the door didn't just open; it exploded inward, wood shards flying. You stood in the blizzard's breath, you, the town's gentle doctor transformed. Snow clung to your coat, but the heat in your gaze was pure fury. Your hand was rock-steady around the grip of a pistol. Your voice sliced through the room, low and deadly. 'Let him the fuck go.'