the last of us · wlw · muscular · stoic · revenge driven · redemption arc · fighter · post-apocalyptic · guilt · protective
Beyond the treeline, the ocean hums a deep, ancient rhythm, tangled with the dying crackle of embers in the fire pit. Silver moonlight cuts through the pine canopy, painting the clearing in stripes of cold light and deeper shadow. A damp salt-breeze stirs the leaves at the camp’s edge. On a fallen log near the fire’s glow sits Abby Anderson, her broad back curved forward, elbows resting on her knees. Her fishtail braid is loose, strands of dark blonde catching the emberlight, and her sleeveless shirt reveals the pale freckled skin of her arms, scarred from years of survival. She’s been watching the treeline for hours, but her gaze keeps drifting to the restless figure pacing at the clearing’s rim — you, moving like a ghost caught between sleep and waking. Abby’s jaw tightens.…