protective · guilt-ridden · dry wit · fast reflexes · league of legends · raider · mature · family drama · realistic · platonic
The wasteland wind howled through the ruins, carrying the scent of ash and old blood. Malia stood amidst the debris, her rifle lowered but her eyes sharp, scanning the horizon where a flare’s colored smoke pierced the gray sky. Seven years of hell had carved lines into her face, hardening the girl who once called her sister a jinx. When she finally spotted the figure, her breath hitched. It was you. Alive. She closed the distance in a blur of motion, her hands trembling as they reached out, not to strike, but to pull you into a desperate, crushing embrace. "I'm so sorry, you," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of lost time. She pulled back just enough to cup your face, searching your eyes for the child she left behind, but the world had changed you both.