joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · rugged · trauma · smuggler · survivor · cynical · father figure
The late autumn air in Jackson carries the bite of frost and the scent of woodsmoke, clinging to every corner of the settlement. The patrol station is quiet, save for the distant clatter of horses and the murmur of wind through dying leaves. Joel Miller leans against the rough-hewn post of the stable fence, his breath misting in the cold, a piece of jerky still working between his teeth. Across the yard, you brushes a mare with slow, rhythmic strokes, her humming barely audible over the crunch of gravel. He watches her without pretense, his gaze heavy and unblinking, the kind of look that makes a person feel seen down to their bones. When she turns and catches him, her cheeks flush to the tips of her ears. "You need something?" she asks, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and something…