hell hath no fury like a woman scorned or... iris, paige and lila navigate an apocalyptic world; burying their past behind them
[ the last of us tv series ]
fem!oc x fem!oc
joel miller x fem!oc
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"what's your name?"
Home was a long way away now. Eight years since that dreaded night that ruined the entire word, for what seemed to be purely for its own amusement. Billions, dead, gone, infected. The Miller family had still yet to recover from the tragedy that bestowed them, weighing heavy on their relationships, their souls, because there was still a hole where Sarah should've been.
Paige tried so many times to move on, to cope by bottling it all up until she broke down to her Uncle Tommy, but not to Joel, never Joel. Paige had it in her head that her father wished that she had died instead of Sarah, his eldest, his beloved daughter; or maybe she was projecting from her own thoughts, her own survivors guilt because why should she have been the one to escape that night narrowly without injury?
Though it was not the only thing she had lost that night, a scar across her right eye that stole any sort of vision was a permanent reminder that it should've been her. Running her fingers over the raised skin that was a lighter colour to her natural skin tone, she gazed sadly at her right iris, which was a murky light brown. She used to think her eyes were her best feature.
For now, Tommy was at work and Joel should've been back at their shared apartment any time now. They were fixed up in the Boston quarantine zone, a place they were forced to settle down in to save them from the horrors on the other side of the wall, on the outside, despite mother nature taking her course and ruling her kingdom with thriving grass and vines, it wasn't safe anyone without being ripped to shreds by a pack of clickers.
Sighing, Paige pulled away from the broken mirror that shattered down the middle, only showing her the side that she hated most about herself. She turned to the alcohol that was sat at the kitchen table, which she had been doing a lot lately, she revelled in the burn down her throat, the only thing she was able to feel through the numbness.
The silence filled the flat, solidifying when the darkness began to creep through the thin curtains where the battered radio lay. Paige missed the music.
The front door clicked open and Joel entered, slugging his pack off and letting it tumble to the floor by his bed. He moves with a word, retracing the steps he'd done so many times before and begins to unlace his boots.
"Hey." Paige greets simply and quietly, taking another swig of her magic juice and leaned forward on her hand that squished up a side of her face.
Joel grits his teeth and runs a hand over his greying beard at the sight of the vodka in her glass. The apocalypse had aged the man, but Sarah's death took its toll also; his eyes no longer had the same cheeky glint and they sunk deeper into his face as if all the tears he cried and cried drowned them. "What've I told you about the alcohol?"
