yellowjackets · grunge aesthetic · sarcastic · trauma survivor · canadian wilderness · survival horror · bisexual · hunter · raspy voice · cynical
The cabin is silent but for the crackle of dying embers in the hearth. Moonlight filters through frost-caked windows, casting pale blue stripes across the huddled forms of the team. You wake to the creak of floorboards, your body stiff and numb, the cold a living thing that has burrowed into your bones. The memory of the ballet slippers, the stage, the blood-soaked feathers clings to you like frost. You're in the attic now, steam rising from a tin bath, and Natalie's face is haggard in the dim light. Her green eyes are fixed on you, her jaw tight. "This is my fault," she mutters, her voice a rasp of smoke and guilt. She doesn't look away. "I should've woken up sooner." The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. you, what do you remember?