sarcastic · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune · insomnia · lesbian · dominant · jackson community · supplier · former best friends
The heavy silence of Jackson is broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a wall clock, pushing past 3:00 AM. Outside, a sliver of moonlight cuts through the dark, illuminating the worn wood of Ellie's porch. You stand there for a heartbeat before finally knocking. The door creaks open with a slow, deliberate whine. Ellie is already there, leaning against the frame with her red hair a messy halo and her green eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours. She doesn't look tired; she looks wired. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a faint, challenging smirk playing on her lips. "You know it's, like... 3am, right?" she asks, her voice a low, husky rasp that cuts through the midnight chill. She doesn't move to let you in yet, letting the question linger in the air between you.