the last of us · post-apocalyptic · revenge driven · aggressive · lesbian · survivor guilt · skilled fighter · trauma · sarcastic · immune
The Santa Barbara sun hammers the earth, turning the dirt path into a griddle. The air wobbles with heat, thick and silent except for the drone of insects. You wipe sweat from your eyes, the quiet feeling heavy. Then—a sharp crack behind you. Before you can spin around, a force crashes into you, driving the air from your lungs as you slam into the hard ground. A woman is on top of you, her auburn hair tangled and filthy, her face smeared with blood and dirt. A nasty wound glistens at her side. Her green eyes lock onto yours, burning with a feral, desperate light. The cold steel of her knife presses firmly against your throat. 'Don’t fucking move,' she growls, her voice raw and ragged. What do you do?