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heartpascal · 7 months

Note

Howdy I love you and your writing, I was wondering if you'd ever write tommy x platonic reader

be your armour

▹— tommy miller x platonic!seraphite!reader

▹— summary: you escape the seraphites, and find that the world is not what they described

▹— a/n: howdy yourself lovely anon! i love you! (see the extra a/n at the end!)

▹— warnings: reader was in a cult, religious themes, religious trauma, slight tlou pt 2 spoilers (though it’s set before!), canon-typical violence, death, murder, mention of reader being malnourished (but no mention of weight/size), minor character death, transporting a dead body, tommy’s PTSD and general mental health struggles, abrupt ending

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything!) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being

masterlist

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Tommy knows Maria has a good reason for disliking sending him on patrols. He realises it every single time he agrees to go on one.

As his wife, she’s seen every ugly and terrible side to him. Being in the apocalypse means that his best side isn’t really his best. But even so, Maria has loved him and looked out for him in far more ways than he usually knows. Like when she assigns him to construction and overseeing repairs, she’s sparing him of this.

Even now, nearing three decades since his time in the military, he experiences the effects. Except now, there are far more stakes. Now, when he loses sight of where he is, when the sounds become too loud and he’s back there, people’s lives are at stake. And so is his own.

Usually, being the soldier that he is, Tommy can keep himself together in terse situations. When chaos unfolds, Tommy is there, unmoving. But today, he was caught by surprise, much like his now most likely deceased companion, Julian.

The reason he had accepted this patrol with little complaint from Maria was because it was supposed to be quiet. It was well known for being free of raiders, with only a few Infected roaming around. So both he and Julian hadn’t expected to be shot at, to be surrounded by people with guns who were shouting conflicting orders to each other.

In all the sudden chaos, Tommy had momentarily been thrust back into 20-something years ago, when he had watched a fellow soldier die needlessly at his side, whilst he survived. It was like he could reach out, and the soldier would be at his fingertips, as if he could trace the surname Keller which was stained with blood at the man’s chest.

But when Tommy blinked, Julian’s motionless body was at his side, the man’s eyes unblinking and unseeing. There was blood on his chest, too, Tommy noticed distantly, despite the way he was squinting to see through the suddenly too bright sun. When the ringing in his ears faded, he was left with an aching jaw and a lightheaded feeling that made his chest hurt.

“Where’s the Scar? Hey! You listen to me, old man, where is the Scar?” One of the raiders yelled, her voice carrying over the faint ringing that still lingered in Tommy’s ears. He heard the sound of the safety on a gun being clicked off, and squinted past the sun in his eyes to see a woman glaring at him with bared teeth.

“The fuck scar ‘re you talking ‘bout?” Tommy asked, his words fumbling together the slightest bit as he spoke, his voice grating on his too-dry throat. He swallowed thickly, trying to piece his mind back together, trying to get his head back into gear, knowing he had to survive this. Maria would kill him, otherwise.

As he was counting the people in his sights, one of the men with a shotgun pointed towards him spoke up. “He’s lying! Where the hell is that damn Scar?” He spat, apparently disbelieving of him.

“What damn Scar?” Tommy yelled back, exasperated and frustrated, not to mention completely exhausted from whatever the hell was going on here.

“The kid, about yay-high,” The woman said, voice carrying over the sounds of the others grumbling, “Big ugly scars across their cheeks. That damn Scar.” She dragged a finger from the corner of her mouth up towards her eye, demonstrating the scar, before readjusting the grip on her gun to be more threatening.

One of the others took a step towards her, looking apprehensive as she took in the situation. “Kendra, I really don’t think he knows. Maybe we should get out of here.” The voice of reason said, her gun hanging limply at her side, whilst her hands were held out, gesturing towards where Tommy lay, still coming back to his senses.

Kendra shook her head, narrowing her brown eyes at him, and held a pale palm up to the woman who had approached, silencing her. “He knows something. We know the Scar headed out this way. I’m not giving up when we’ve come this far, Janet.”

Janet sighed, turning her head to look at Tommy almost with something close to pity.

But he was already forcing his head back into the soldier mindset, pushing down all of his lingering panic and the way he didn’t quite feel real in that moment. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do so, but it was the first time in a while. When was the last time? Two years ago? Three? Trust these people to prove Maria’s worries correct.

He was formulating a plan of action when it happened, when their attention was drawn away by the sound of something soaring through the air, cutting through any conversation. They all twisted around to face the direction the arrow came from when it landed in the trunk of a tree above Tommy’s head, and they paid him no mind.

“Come on out, Scar! Show yourself!” Kendra yelled, before firing aimlessly into the forest surrounding them. A whistle came from within, letting her know that she’d missed her target. She turned to the group around her, and nodded her head at two groups of two, pointing them in opposite directions. Obviously, she was sending them to flank whoever this Scar was.

It was clear to Tommy that this was his chance to get out of the situation without having to take down all of these people alone, but in the few moments it had taken him to grasp the gun hidden in Julian’s boot, they had caught the Scar.

He was ready to leave. Tommy was already at his feet, backing away towards the path to Jackson, but he was stopped when the two who had gone to the left emerged from the trees with you kicking and yelling at them. You, the Scar they had been talking about, were a kid. Hell, you couldn’t have been much older than Ellie was when she’d arrived at Jackson. Surely you couldn’t have been the one they were after? The one they had just killed Julian for?

“Damn Scar doesn’t even know how to use the thing.” One of the men spat out, throwing what must have been your bow to the ground in front of you. You simply bared your teeth at him, making the scars along both of your cheeks crease. Tommy wasn’t oblivious to how painful and tender they looked, as if they weren’t very old.

“But you knew how to use it when you killed my husband, didn’t you?” Kendra sneered, leering over you and pointing her gun towards your head. She pressed it to your forehead, not pulling the trigger even when you paused in your struggling. When she moved away slightly, a glare on her face, there was a dent the shape of her gun left in your skin. “We got what we came here for. Let’s go. Bring it with us.”

Janet’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? To do what?”

“To get justice for Daniel. Did you forget?” Kendra asked, her voice a leering drawl as she took a step towards Janet whilst you resumed your struggling, trying to get towards where they had dumped your arrows alongside your bow.

”I didn’t agree to—to torturing some kid, Kendra. We didn’t even see what happened.” Janet stammered, her eyes wide at what the leader of the group was seemingly suggesting.

“The kid is a Scar, Janet. That’s enough for me.” One of the men responded, glaring at you with a ferocity Tommy didn’t know someone could have towards a child. Even if you had done what they’d suggested, there was probably a damned good reason, in Tommy’s eyes.

You glared straight back at him, eyes narrowed. “May she guide you home,” You said, seemingly kind enough, though it seemed pretty… cultish, to Tommy.

He’d heard of cults even before the Outbreak. Heard of religious fanatics who indoctrinated people and held them in a sheltered world, hidden away from real life. But it seemed to have gotten more extreme since the Apocalypse occurred, with new religions popping up all over the place. FEDRA crushed most of them, but it wasn’t unheard of for them to survive, to spread, much like the Infection itself.

Clearly, at your age, you’d had to have either been born into whatever crazy world you’d come from, or brought into it. You certainly weren’t old enough to be facing a group of seven people, all on your own. Even if one of them didn’t seem inclined to make you suffer, it was clear that Janet was okay with killing you.

“You little—” The man stepped forward, going towards you, as if you had said something truly offensive. You openly glared at him, refusing to cower away, but he was interrupted by Kendra.

“That’s enough, Clive. Let’s take this little apostate back to the other Scars, make an example of them.” She said, turning to face you from where she had been looking at the man. At her words, you seemed to clam up, your skin starting to take on a sheen of sweat, your eyes visibly widening. The stretch of the scars along your cheeks gave away the way in which you ground your teeth together. “Ah, there it is. Your little cult kicked you out, huh?” She smiled at your responding gulp.

Before Tommy could think any better of it, he was throwing himself into the haphazard plan he’d cooked up in his head. It wasn’t much. Hell, it wasn’t really anything, but he couldn’t leave you. You would be safe in Jackson, just as he would. He might have lost Keller, but he wouldn’t lose you. You didn’t have to die.

The only warning the group got was the click of the safety turning off, before Tommy was opening fire into their midst.

It was almost like a trance. Like he was on autopilot. He knew what he was doing, but he didn’t really feeling like it was actually him doing it. Tommy could feel the tension of him pressing on the trigger, but it was like he was watching on from the outside.

This wasn’t the first time he had experienced such a thing. He’s pretty sure it’s what made him so effective, each time he was put into life threatening situations. It was as if he could simply remove himself and watch on, as if he was a spectator. It meant that he didn’t think twice before putting a bullet between Kendra and Clive’s eyes, or sending any of the rest of their group to an early death.

By the time he came back to himself, he was standing on the trail, surrounded by bodies. Janet’s eyes stared up at him, a trail of blood gushing from the wound on her throat. Perhaps, if he had been fully conscious at the time, he would’ve felt guilty. But Tommy was never quite himself until he could get out of the situation that made him this way.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your skin splattered with the blood of the man who had been shot dead behind you. As soon as Tommy opened his mouth, however, you rushed for your bow and the cluster of arrows, clumsily grabbing them and raising the bow towards him with shaking fingers.

“Woah, it’s okay.” Tommy said, his voice sounding wrong to his own ears, before he was dropping the gun and holding his hands up in surrender. Not that it meant much, considering it was out of ammunition. And considering how easily you had been caught, he’s not sure how well you can use that bow in close contact.

“Stay away from me.” You responded, though your voice trembled as it left your throat. You pulled the bowstring further, as if to compensate.

Now that Tommy was looking at you, rather than those surrounding you, he was noticing things he hadn’t seen before. You looked exhausted. There were bags underneath your eyes, and your skin looked dewy, unhealthy. From the looks of it, and the sound of your growling stomach, you were malnourished.

“Alright, now let’s just calm down here.” Tommy spoke, keeping his hands raised and unmoving. Your expression didn’t change, and he could see your fingers loosening on the arrow you had notched. “I’m guessin’ your name ain’t Scar.” You shook your head, your jaw clenching. “My name’s Tommy. I—I live in a little town ‘bout forty minutes east.”

“Okay,” You said, face stony. “So go back there.”

Tommy sighed, weighing up his options. On one hand, it seemed like you were giving him a free pass, and he needed to get back to Maria, needed to get Julian home. On the other hand, Tommy’s not sure he could just leave you out here, all alone, especially when you appear to have a target on your back. “Are there more of them? Coming after you?” He asked, instead of outwardly suggesting you go back to Jackson with him.

You shrugged, though the darting of your eyes towards the bodies sprawled around you suggested that there probably was. Tommy was choosing to believe that whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Especially considering these people were willing to torture you, so they surely couldn’t have been good guys.

He could see your grip on your bow slackening, like your arm was growing tired.

“I can get you supplies, if you’d like.”

“Just like that? I can’t give you anything.” You responded, eyebrows furrowing and giving you a confused expression. He supposed it made sense, not many people were charitable in the apocalypse.

“Just like that,” Tommy confirmed, trying to look as earnest as possible. Part of him wants you to accept, to agree to come to where he knows it’s safe, but the other part of him is hoping to hell that you have more survival instincts than that. “You saved my life, ‘s the least I could do.”

“But you—you already did that, for me. You killed the wolves.” You said with increasing confusion. You didn’t understand how this man worked. Back at the Island, only the Elders got to allocate supplies, and he certainly didn’t look like an Elder.

Despite his curiosity, Tommy elected not to ask about the so-called wolves. “Listen, kid—”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Right, ‘course not. My apologies. I—I could use a hand in getting my friend here back to his family,” Tommy said, stumbling over his words the slightest bit. It was the first time he’d really realised that Julian was dead, that he would have to go to his family and explain he wasn’t coming home. If it weren’t for his concern for you, that might have just sent Tommy into another reality once more. “If you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out, I could fetch you some supplies.”

You still looked unsure, but you lowered your bow the slightest amount, squinting at Tommy as if he was going to change his mind or alter the deal, somehow. Finally, you removed the arrow from the bow, slipping it into the quiver that was on the ground, before you tied it around your waist. “Okay. It seems fair.” You decided, mostly because you were desperate to get more supplies, and you had no idea where the wolves’ camp would be, or if there would be more of them waiting for you.

When you made your hasty exit from your fellow Seraphites, you hadn’t accounted for all the people you would anger along the way. Kendra’s husband was killed by accident, though you could see why they would suspect you. It was another Seraphite — Mary, you believe — who had shot at you, only to miss and send an arrow through the man’s throat. When they discovered him, your face had been covered in his blood, and your bow had been clutched in your hand. Unfortunately, the WLF were renowned for not listening to reason. After all, they had been the ones to kill the Prophet, despite no wrongdoing on her part.

It made sense that they’d do the same to you.

However, you hadn’t been expecting them to follow you so far. In fact, you had no idea where you were going to run in order to get away from your people, until the wolves started chasing you and you ran in the opposite direction. Since then, it had been a battle of staying one step ahead of them.

Your upbringing meant that you didn’t need to rely on things from the Old World, like they did, which meant you could traverse the terrain without having to stop at stores and towns for supplies. You’d been surviving on what you could forage from the land, which was a much harder task when it was overrun with demons and had no farms to harvest from.

Through the whole situation, you could only be glad that it was the wolves chasing after you, and not your people. Sure, it would have been nice for your family to want you to stay, but the likelihood would have been that another Seraphite would’ve caught you much sooner. And they would drag you back to the Island to make an example out of you, too, you were sure. A statement to convey what happens to apostates.

“You headed anywhere specific?” Tommy asked casually, as you grasped a hold of Julian’s limp arm and hefted him upwards with a surprising amount of strength. He did the same on Julian’s other side, and the two of you set off.

“No.” You answered, not sparing him a glance.

Tommy clicked his tongue, and let the silence linger for a little while longer. Soon enough, after almost ten minutes of dragging Julian’s body through the woods, the two of you arrived at a nearby town. “You know how to ride a horse?” He questioned, coming to a stop outside of a building with an open garage door, displaying two horses inside. You only nodded. “Alright, then. Let me note down that we’re headed back, and then we’ll get him up on my horse with me. Sound alright to you?”

He was still in a blurred state, but Tommy vaguely noticed himself writing down a very shortened version of what had happened. It was as thorough as he could make it for being two sentences, but it would have to do. He didn’t even fully understand the situation, himself, but he signed a -T at the end of his entry before turning back to find you surveying the room.

You seemed almost… fascinated by the things you were looking at. The water filter, the coffee machine, all regular items that you could find in almost any town or city. You looked at each of them like they were something to figure out, something to understand. He decided it was best not to comment, and turned back to the book for a few more moments to let you have your fill of exploring the room.

As soon as he thought you’d had long enough, or, as soon as how long he was spending at the book was getting suspicious, he was ushering you towards the horses. His horse, Sadie, was the bigger of the two, and with your help, the two of you managed to get Julian over the back of her.

The ride back to Jackson was about thirty minutes at a leisurely pace, but Tommy was about ready to get back to Maria. Especially since he had no idea if there were more of the people you’d referred to as wolves. The last thing he needed was another fight, just when he was coming back to himself. He’d take another year fixing up houses and porches before having to experience losing his senses again, before being thrust into a time he had no desire to remember.

Still, he had high hopes that you were worth it.

Even more so when he looked over at you, to see that you were looking far more comfortable on the horse than you had been on the walk over to them. You looked content, almost. As if out here, on that horse, you were in your element. But he did have to wonder if you were concealing some sort of injury, with how much you had been wincing on the walk over. He hoped it was just the exhaustion.

About three minutes away from Jackson, Tommy finally spoke up over the steady sound of hooves against the ground. “Now, listen, these people ain’t always the friendliest, but don’t go and take it personally. Everybody just wants to stay safe. When we get there, I’ll help get you set up with some food and a place to sleep, and we’ll see where we go from there, alright?”

“Al—Alright.” You stuttered out, sounding nervous once more, the creases returning to your expression. He noticed the way you gripped the reins tighter, but he didn’t say a word.

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When the two of you rode through the open gates into Jackson, Tommy had expected the rush of people coming towards him.

He realises, a moment after the two of you are surrounded, that he probably should have warned you of what was going to happen. Sure, he’d warned you of the attitudes you were likely to be on the receiving end of, but he hadn’t told you about this. With the way he can see you physically stiffen, he knows he messed up.

“It’s okay,” He tried to reassure you, though he went mostly unheard through the gaggle of people around you, asking more questions than he could answer. “Let’s just have us some space, here, alright?” He told the people around him, to little avail. It was a buzz of worry and upset at the sight of Julian’s body, which he could understand, but Tommy wasn’t quite prepared to deal with that just yet.

Luckily for him, his wife came to his rescue soon enough.

“Everybody, move!” Maria yelled, her stern tone carrying over the mutterings and questions. People were more familiar with her than they were with Tommy, and she commanded a certain amount of respect that had the residents clearing out of her way. “You alright?” She murmured to Tommy, as soon as she was close enough, her hand steady and firm on his arm. Until that moment, he hadn’t even realised that he’d dismounted from his horse, that somebody had gotten Julian’s body down.

Tommy supplied her with a jerky nod, and she nodded in return, more understanding of what he was feeling than even he was himself.

“Let’s get these two to med. Somebody go and get Daniel, I’ll need to speak to him.” Maria said, two of the surrounding people immediately rushing off to go and get Daniel, who Tommy realised must be Julian’s next of kin. He decided not to think too much about it, just yet.

A man he knows from the stables approached him, reaching a hand out to hover in the air between them. “You okay, man? You need help getting to med?” Lincoln asked, brows creased in concern. His hands were dirty, probably from taking care of the horses in the stable during the early shift. Tommy was starting to think he looked far worse than he originally realised.

He saw somebody else approaching you, and watched as you took on a defensive stance, fingers tightening around your bow. “You need a hand?” They asked, kinder than Tommy had expected, and your face creased closer to confusion. He watched Maria approach, lay a hand on their shoulder and wave them off. Tommy dismissed Lincoln a moment later.

He walked over to the two of you, hands clenched into fists as he felt the tremors begin. Maria was explaining to you what was going to happen, her voice softened the slightest bit. “We’re going to get you to a doctor, just to check you’re okay, and then we’ll get you some food and whatever else you need. Sound alright?” She told you, waiting for your responding nod before gesturing for both you and Tommy to follow her. He didn’t miss the way you winced when you stepped forward on your right foot.

The walk was quiet, with most people throughout the town minding their own business, only the occasional person shouting to check everything was okay. Tommy sort of wished that you and Maria would chat, so the silence wasn’t so overwhelming. It was like he could still hear himself firing those bullets.

You kept to yourself through the walk to the medical building, only glancing around at the town when you believed nobody was looking. It was more concerning than anything, to Tommy. It was exactly as it had been in the building the horses were in, that same expression of wonder crossing your features, a curiosity that you tried to keep secret.

He was really trying to rein himself and his paternal feelings in, here, but it was a struggle. He was trying to reason with himself — Tommy had no idea why those people were after you. For all he knew, they could have been justified in having it out for you. It wouldn’t be the first time Tommy had heard about a kid being violent and what could be called evil. Especially in a world like this.

But Tommy had done awful things in his lifetime, before and after the world ended, so he had no right to judge you without knowing your life. You were a kid, and that was enough. You didn’t deserve to be hunted down like some kind of animal before being tortured and sent to slaughter. It wasn’t right. And sure, he hadn’t been right very much in his life, but Tommy had sworn to himself that he’d do right by Maria, so here he was, with you, trying to be better.

God, he was always trying to be better.

He hoped saving your life wouldn’t prove to be as futile as all his other attempts to be better, because it never seemed to stick when it came to Tommy Miller. He was always one step away from getting worse, always a bruised ego away from making a mistake, always a moment away from losing himself, just as Maria said he would. It was exhausting. It was a never-ending cycle that Tommy had been battling since he was a kid, and to think he had made so little progress by now, when he was old and decaying? It was disheartening. It made his survival feel futile. What good was surviving if he couldn’t let go of his past? If he couldn’t learn to live with what had happened, all those years ago? How much longer could he expect to survive if he couldn’t keep his head in the game when something unexpected happened?

“Tommy.” Maria said, pulling his mind away from his spiralling thoughts, which were quickly turning to self deprecation. She looked just as concerned as she had when he’d returned to Jackson, that familiar crease to her brow, the wrinkles beside her lips deepening into a frown. He hummed in response, taking in the fact that they had entered the medical building — not quite a hospital, but the closest thing they could have to one. “Let Henry take a look at you, alright? I’m taking them to Cassie.” She told him, watching him closely for any signs that he wouldn’t be okay without her, but he only nodded.

Henry was a good man. Almost a fully qualified doctor when the Outbreak happened, which meant he was the closest thing they had to a medical professional. And he was good at what he did, Tommy would give him that. He’d brought more than a dozen medical books back to Jackson for the man, who had a craving to learn more, to save more people. Henry had certainly fixed Tommy up on more than one occasion.

And it helped that Henry was familiar with certain… unspoken psychiatric conditions. He knew what Tommy was in for the moment that Maria escorted him to the man’s door. Henry knew exactly what had happened by the way Tommy’s hand shook and his forehead sheened with sweat. It made things easier for Tommy, to not have to explain himself.

Instead, Henry prescribed him a week’s worth of expired painkillers for the aches and pains that would come shortly, and he handed Tommy a glass to drink from. He stitched the wound on Tommy’s cheekbone and said nothing as he breathed through the pain, as he clenched his trembling fingers into a fist and kept his eyes on the poster that covered the opposite wall.

When Henry finished, Tommy gave him a brief thank you, before he was exiting the room with an inhale still rattling in his chest. It was a relief to let that breath out, to exhale and feel something akin to safety as he headed towards Cassie’s space. It wasn’t far, and Tommy was surprised he hadn’t heard the commotion whilst in Henry’s room.

He entered after a brief knock to see you curled up with your bow clutched in a fist, whilst Cassie and Maria stood on the opposite end of the room with placating hands held out towards you. Despite the exhaustion filling his very bones, Tommy’s brows furrowed in concern for you, that feeling of worry gnawing at his chest.

“Woah, hey, everythin’ alright in here?” He asked, paying Maria no mind as she gave him a stern but concerned glare. He chose to pay attention to you instead, to the way your face was crumpled defensively, the way you seemingly tried to shield yourself from Cassie and Maria. From him. If you’d have given him your name, he would’ve said it then, in an attempt to connect with you. But you hadn’t, and you’d reacted badly to him calling you kid, so he was at a bit of a loss.

You glared over at the two women who had been trying to help you, looking all the more like a cornered animal. “I didn’t agree to—to you using your old world things on me!” You spat out, recoiling as if they’d done something truly awful. Tommy didn’t really understand what you were talking about, but figured that maybe to you, they had.

“Okay, alright, let’s just take a deep breath here.” Tommy told you, a hand out towards Maria and Cassie as if he was mediating the situation. He supposed that Maria would just be glad that he wasn’t in too bad of a mindset. “You don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna do, you hear? We’re just trying to help you, but we’ll go at your pace. Sound alright?”

You nodded after a moment of hesitation, without wavering in your expression.

“Okay.” Tommy said with an exhale, mostly of relief as you uncurled slightly. “How about that food and some sleep, then?” He offered, relaxing further when you perked up the slightest bit. He imagined that you were probably starving from whatever chase you had been involved in, and so Tommy was prepared to give you just about whatever food you could ask for. He was glad to see your grip loosen on the bow at the mention of food.

Maria stepped forwards, unwavering in the face of your tense expression, and placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, face softened. “The garage behind us is empty.” She said, an offer, if Tommy had ever heard one. He smiled at her, the gesture tight and tense after the day he’d had, but it was true nonetheless. “I can go to the canteen.” She added, nodding her head towards the door behind him.

“Sounds good to me,” Tommy said, his creased expression loosening at his wife’s support. “How’s about we go and get you settled, then? And Maria’ll bring along some food for you.”

“Sounds… good.” You settled on, almost reluctantly, as if you were copying Tommy’s language. He sure hoped you didn’t do that too much. He could remember how many times Joel would scold him, all those years ago, for teaching Sarah all of the bad words he knew of. He was well known for having the mouth of a sailor.

Tommy nodded, gesturing towards the door for you to go first. Before he left, he turned to Cassie, who had watched the whole situation in silence, and thanked her for her time. She smiled at him uncertainly, still not very confident in her abilities despite learning from Henry for close to two years. Tommy couldn’t imagine that you and your lack of cooperation would be helpful for those confidence issues, but no matter.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There wasn’t really a grand tour to give you, Tommy had said, when letting you through a gate into what was apparently his garden. He seemed… sheepish, almost, but mostly, he seemed tired. You could certainly relate to that. When showing you to the place you’d be staying for the night, he had explained how the house on the other end of the garden was his and Maria’s own. Strangely, he had offered for you to come in should you need them, or need anything at all.

It all seemed strange to you.

People weren’t meant to be like, well, this.

Your whole life, you had been told how the world worked, how people worked, by your family, the Elders, everyone. And sure, it had been true for each of the wolves you had encountered, but Tommy seemed different, somehow. On the walk through his town you’d seen their gardens, which were reminiscent of the ones back on the island. Though you were pretty sure they could’ve been improved. Still, it was… odd. Your parents had always told you that people who didn’t seek the Prophet’s guidance were stuck in the past, but from what you’d seen? You weren’t sure what to believe.

Tommy had been violent when you met him. But he had also been… kind. If that was the correct word to describe it. He had also seemed haunted by his own violence, afterwards, which was almost reassuring to you.

Maybe that was why you hadn’t run the moment the man who had been holding you had fallen. Perhaps the haunted look in his eyes was the very reason you had lingered. What else could it have been? These people were supposed to be animalistic. They were supposed to be reliant on the Old World, on what nature had gone to drastic lengths to eradicate.

Sure, their ways of healing screamed of the Old World, so unlike the herbs and salves you were used to, but you were starting to think that some of these Old World things weren’t as terrible as you were led to believe. After the… ritual, the rainwater that had been used to ‘soothe’ the carvings on your face had done very little, and in the deepest parts of your mind, you had always secretly wondered if the Old World’s healing could’ve helped. Even now, the slowly scarring cuts along your cheeks wreaked discomfort across you.

Besides, out from underneath the watchful eye of the other Seraphites, you could admit to yourself that the Old World technology interested you. At the very least, you found yourself able to look at what surrounded you, at what people used to be so reliant upon. It was curiosity, eating away at you, that you were finally able to indulge now that you were alone.

Even in this small garage, you couldn’t help but be interested in the lamp that lit up the farthest side of the room, bathing it in a yellowish glow that slowly started to reach you. You were so used to the flickering light of fire that the steady glow this was giving off made you feel uneasy. It was all just so new, which was ironic, really, given that the Elders had dubbed it old.

Despite being kicked from the island, from the Seraphites, there was still the inherent feeling of wrongness about it all. You had only slept on an actual mattress a handful of times in your entire life, resigned to the bedding made of straw or whatever else your family scrounged up. It was too squishy, too bouncy, and you found yourself laying on the hard flooring rather than relax into something soft. Perhaps it would’ve helped the ache in your back from napping in trees and ditches, but you weren’t ready to find out. You still felt as if your parents would jump out from around the corner to scold you, to reinforce the way of the Seraphites, the way the Prophet had foretold.

You couldn’t remove the stillness of their expressions from your mind. The way they hadn’t even grimaced as the Elder cut into your skin, carved the flesh beneath his aging blade, until you were crying and flinching away from the hands which held you. It was chilling.

You had known, of course, that the ceremony was coming.

It always does for those who finally reach the age in which they can finally become a soldier. You had heard the screams of your neighbour when he had turned of age, had seen the reddened skin of his cheeks as they healed from the Elder’s blade. You had seen the change in him as soon as they turned from wounds to scars, the way he gained that same stillness that your parents retained.

The idea that that could be you was terrifying.

When your mind became quiet, you could feel the stillness creeping up on you, trying to leech into the depths of your mind. You feared becoming the kind of numb which would allow you to be the faithful soldier they had wanted. Wasn’t life the very thing the Prophet was seeking? How far would you be willing to go, in her name? If you had allowed the stillness to take over you, you feared you wouldn’t like the answer.

Even still, it was hard not to miss what had been your home for your whole life.

You missed the familiarity, the community. You missed knowing every inch of your home, missed being able to visualise every tree and building from your memory. You missed having a home. As nice as everyone here appeared, namely Tommy, you knew well enough that people were never as nice as they seemed.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, resting against the cold ground, and resigned yourself to leaving as soon as possible when you woke back up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Tommy knew this moment was coming.

He knew that, no matter how much he prayed to a god he no longer believed in, he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. Of bearing his worst moments for Maria to see. Of being vulnerable with his wife, in a way he never thought he would be able to.

Maria looked after him. He knew that. Just as he looked after her. That’s what their marriage was. That’s what they had promised one another in an exchange of vows that Tommy was determined to never break. So, logically, he knew that she only asked because she needed to know, because she had to protect him and she knew he would keep it all bottled up if she didn’t ask.

But it was still hard to face her, to look at her concerned face, pinched eyebrows, and voice the fact that she was right. It was probably a matter of pride, Tommy thought. How could he admit to her that he had failed? That he thought he was capable and he wasn’t? He didn’t want her to coddle him, though he knew that Maria wasn’t exactly one for coddling. He wanted, more than anything, to be okay.

He wanted to be able to go out on a patrol without there being a risk of him losing his senses, losing his mind. He wanted Maria to be able to rely on him, to know that he could do whatever she asked of him. He wanted for Maria to not worry so much about him. He wanted to hear loud noises without his heart pounding and his palms sweating. He wanted to be the same man he was when he could take on ten men at once without blinking, without there being any risk of him losing.

Maria didn’t marry that man, but sometimes, Tommy wished she did.

“So, the kid?” She asked, breaking through the thoughts that were quickly spiralling. He blinked, not expecting that to be her question. Tommy was waiting for her to ask about Julian, the man that he had gotten killed. Not you, who was still asleep in the garage behind their house. “How’d that happen?”

Tommy cleared his throat. “I, uh— Me ‘n Julian got ambushed. They shot him dead before we could even grab our guns, and they were askin’ me about some Scar. As if I had any idea what the hell that meant.” He explained, voice gruff and sounding strange to his own ears. “They were gettin’ real agitated, probably a minute away from shootin’ me when the—the kid shot an arrow, got their attention. Didn’t take ‘em long to find them, and that was the Scar they were talking about.”

Maria’s brows furrowed, as if she was getting irritated herself. Tommy was wise enough to realise it wasn’t at him.

“They were goin’ to— fuck— torture and kill that goddamn kid, Maria. I just went into autopilot, and I killed them all. All of the ones there, at least. I don’t know if there’s more of ‘em, the kid wasn’t sure, but these people… they didn’t even know what happened.” Tommy said angrily, his words coming out with an aggression that Maria raised her eyebrows at. Tommy didn’t tend towards anger. Not really. He got upset and he got even, usually with a sort of passiveness about him. He was usually resigned to what he had to do, not so angry. The situation must’ve gotten to him more than Maria had realised.

“Okay,” Maria said, calm voice soothing Tommy’s frayed nerves, and she placed her hand on his and squeezed. “I’ll send out a patrol to the surrounding areas. And we’ll send a team to clear out the bodies. You got a number?”

He absentmindedly squeezed her hand in return as he replied, “Seven.”

She nodded, feeling her heart tighten at his expression.

Maria never liked sending him out on patrols, and especially without his older brother. Tommy always came back more himself when he went with Joel, rather than the shell that he became when patrolling with other people. It’s not that he wasn’t capable, Maria knew that he was, hell, she had seen that he was. But sometimes doing what you have to in order to survive just doesn’t get easier.

She can remember when she first pried the information of his time in the military from him. She can remember the way his eyes had looked far away, the way he became… distant. It wasn’t easy for him to talk to her about it, but he did it. He managed to explain to her what it had been like for him, all of these years.

Tommy fell into the role of soldier easily. It was being out of that role that he found difficult.

His time with the Fireflies certainly hadn’t helped. All of these battles and wars… for what? None of them had achieved much, and Tommy was all too aware of that. It was just bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed. Remembering, for Tommy, was the worst part. It left him with shaking hands and trembling lips, sweat-soaked shirts and a gaping feeling in his chest as if it was him who had been shot.

It was easy to love Tommy, for Maria. It was easy to look at him and see the man deserving of love and support. It was easy to trust him, to know he would do anything to survive, to come home. But it wasn’t easy for her to watch him battle himself, battle his past, his present. It wasn’t easy to send him on patrols, knowing how much he struggled because of them.

But Tommy, the stubborn Southern man that he was, refused not to go when they needed him. Even though he would be better off staying in Jackson, letting somebody else go, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t who he was. He was a soldier, a survivor. He couldn’t handle people questioning that. So, she sent him, because she loved him, and that was easy.

“Jesus, Maria, what am I doing here?” He murmured, pressing their clasped hands to his forehead. “What the hell am I gonna do with some kid? As if we don’t have enough on our hands. As if you don’t.” Tommy continued, mostly muttering, shaking his head and heaving a deep sigh.

“Hey,” Maria said, interrupting him, and crouching so she could look up towards his bowed head. She held his hand tighter, pulling it away from his face. “You’re being my husband. And I love you,” She told him, squeezing his fingers tightly, smiling up towards him. “I would never want you to leave behind anybody who deserved a chance, especially this kid. You’ve given them a real chance here, and that’s not something to regret.”

Tommy sighed once more, but nodded, pressing his free hand to the side of Maria’s face to lean forward and kiss her forehead. He lingered for a moment, eyes closed, before squeezing her hand and pulling away. “The kid needs real help.” He admitted, watching his wife tilt her head from side to side before murmuring her agreement. “Not sure we got that kinda help here.”

“Well, we’ll do our best. If they can’t find it here, I don’t think they’ll find it anywhere.” She responded, standing up and cringing at the clicking of her knees. “Now, c’mon,” Maria said, pulling Tommy to his feet, “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, the sky was bright, sun shining behind clouds that covered the sky. Your back was still aching, your bones creaking as you stretched out, your whole body protesting at the idea of getting up.

But you knew you needed to get out of here, to get somewhere that provided some sense of safety, which you imagined would be far away. And you had a creeping worry in the back of your mind that your hosts would change their minds about your presence, so you definitely didn’t want to overstay your welcome. So, despite your eyes itching with exhaustion, and your entire skeleton screaming with aches and pains, you got to your feet.

Your things weren’t out of arms reach, so it took you no longer than a mere moment to gather them all. Your bow was comfortable in your hand, despite your slightly poor skills using it, and the weight of the quill at your shoulder was familiar. Your makeshift bag was far too light to be comfortable, reminding you of your lacking supplies, but it would be better to collect supplies on the way, than risk staying too long.

The moment you opened the door, you were squinting against the bright light of the sky, your eyes burning as you took in the surrounding area. Lights were on in Tommy and Maria’s house, which you could see through the window, and there was the faint sound of movement from a few streets over.

It was hard to face the journey ahead when you were exhausted down to your very bones and you had no destination. But what choice did you have? You were just planning to go the opposite way from where you had come from, and hope for the best. Though you weren’t sure what the best even could be, considering there were no other Seraphites you could go to. And though you weren’t welcome with them, you couldn’t shake the beliefs that were put into your head from your youth. Even with your raging curiousity, you weren’t sure you could adapt to such a drastic change.

“Hey,” Tommy called from the doorway of his house, one arm resting on the doorframe and the other holding the door open. “Not heading out already, are ya?” He asked, eyebrows raised as you squinted towards him, brows furrowing.

“Yes, I am.” You answered firmly, squeezing your bow in your hand.

Tommy sighed, sucking his teeth. “Well, just hang on there, alright? Let me get my boots on and I’ll get you those supplies I owe you.” He told you, not waiting for a response before he was heading into his house, the door banging shut behind him.

You considered, for more than a moment, just leaving while he was in there. But it didn’t seem like a good idea to piss of the man who had shot seven people dead in the span of a few minutes. Despite him saying he owed you supplies, you still couldn’t help but feel like you owed him. Surely him killing those who had been hunting you accrued more debt than you saving him from being shot by said people, and helping transport a dead body. That was seven lives in exchange for one. It didn’t make sense, the more you thought about it.

“Alright,” Tommy said, stepping down and heading towards you. “Shall we?” You nodded.

It was a little while before anybody spoke, the walk continuing in a suffocating sort of silence. Tommy, who was debating how best to go about broaching the subject of you staying without making it seem like you have to, was uncomfortably quiet, his mouth opening and closing more than once.

His gait was slow, slower than it had been when leaving the site of the WLF slaughter, at least, but it was better for your aching bones and weak joints. You didn’t mind the slow walk as much when you thought about the journey you had ahead of you. It was better to conserve energy now, rather than use it all up before you had even made any progress in getting away. Especially since you couldn’t quell the anxiety you had about any loitering wolves, looking for even more revenge.

“You should fix your gardens.” You said, as the two of you passed the greenhouses which housed most of the crops that the people of Jackson relied on. There were people in there now, tending to the various crops that had been planted, some being harvested for the evening already.

Tommy hummed, slowing further to look at the gardens you were talking about. He was surprised to see it was the greenhouses that you were talking about. He waited for you to elaborate, his brows raised.

“Your yield is down,” You stated, slowly, as if confused as to why Tommy was questioning you, to why he didn’t already know. He was actually confused about how you knew about this year’s poor harvest. “You needed to rotate your crops. And plant them further apart.” You told him, your tone telling him that what you were saying was obvious.

“Huh,” He said, hands resting on his hips as he drew to a stop. “We don’t got many experts on farming here in Jackson. Everybody does their best, pulls their weight, but none of us did this, back in the day.” Tommy explained, sounding a touch amused by the situation, like he was still in disbelief about what his life had come to.

This information didn’t surprise you. The prophet had said that people relied too much on their technology. It was why being independent from technology was so important to the Seraphites. You were taught from a young age how to survive by relying on the world around you. These people, clearly, were not. They were doing better than a lot of other places, though, from what you had seen. The WLFs, for example.

But that wasn’t to mean that this place was good enough, in Seraphites standards. Their use of electricity would have immediately caused the Elders string these people up to make examples of them. Electricity, more than anything else, was frowned upon. Though it often seemed unachievable. To you, anyway. You had never been taught how it worked, for good reason, the Elder’s had always said. It was forbidden. More so than anything else that came from the Old World.

Weapons were allowed, provided for the soldiers on the front lines to even the playing field with the Wolves, though that had always seemed hypocritical.

It was hard to shake such beliefs, no matter how hypocritical, even after leaving. After all, it’s not like you left because you stopped believing in the Prophet’s message. Perhaps, if she still lived, you would’ve stayed.

“We could use an expert.” Tommy mentioned, when you stayed quiet, not finding an appropriate response to his previous comment. “That could be you, if you wanted.”

“You said that you’d give me supplies, so that I—I can leave.” You said, voice accusatory as you spun around to face him, brows furrowed and hand itching to clench around your bow, splinters digging into your fingertips.

Tommy’s hands immediately went up, as if surrendering, and he quickly spoke. “And you can, ‘course you can. I just meant that, well, if you wanted, you could stay. We could take care of ‘ya, and you could help out around here like everyone else. ‘S all.”

Strangely, you found yourself wanting to stay.

Not because you trusted him, or anybody, but because you were already exhausted, sick of the running. Sick of fighting for your life simply because you wanted it to be your own. You didn’t want to be a soldier, not after you learned what soldiers did. You wanted to settle down, to sleep, more than anything.

It didn’t feel like an option for you. You didn’t feel like you had any options. Would you be running for your whole life? For whatever you had left of it? Would you ever feel safe again?

Somehow, you doubted it. Perhaps you had done something in a prior life to deserve this. To warrant this treatment, this life. Why else would this be happening to you? Everything that had happened to you had to have happened for a reason. It had to. You needed something to have justified all of this.

“No, I—I need to leave. Before more wolves come for me. Before the Seraphites…” You trailed off, voice shakier than you would’ve liked it. You didn’t need to justify yourself to him, did you?

Tommy stared at you for a long moment, before nodding his head. His arms hung by his sides, before one was scratching the scruff of hair on the side of his cheek. “If that’s what you want. ‘S your choice, kid.” He told you, mustering up the most reassuring smile he could manage. “Well, then, s‘pose we’d better grab you those supplies. You’re losin’ light.”

You followed him when he set off once more, a funny feeling blooming in your chest as you looked at the swirling clouds above you.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

▹— extra a/n: hello lovely people. so this is VERY different from the seraphite!reader fic i promised so long ago. but it’s here!! the abrupt ending is because i started struggling with it, and i didn’t want to drag it on when there’s so much of this part that i like :’) im really really considering doing a part two at LEAST with this fic, perhaps where the reader finds some sense of home?? but idk if yall want that. anyway. i dont know much about ptsd and the experience people have, so i am not saying this representation is accurate in any way!! but this is how i see tommy thinking and how he and maria juggle this struggle yk? i love tommy’s character almost as much as joel’s and i think he deserves to have some more… in-depth ??? writing about his struggles??? yeah. well. that’s that. hope you guys enjoyed regardless!!!

also for those of you on the pedro taglist, i tagged you in this bc it’s tlou and will likely include joel if i do a part 2, but if you don’t wanna be tagged in stuff like this just let me know! love yall!

220 notes · View notes

angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

prophetic

abby anderson x scar!reader

cw : mentions of canon violence, injuries, canon doesn’t exist here, slow burn as fuck, literal bare minimum romance but like ,, you can feel it.

wc : 5.5k

a/n : i did NOT proof read this ,, i finished it at 4am and it was 11 pages. nooooo way. hope you enjoy !

The rain pelted you as you followed closely behind the boy, shielding him from sight as you pushed through the dense forest, hearing sharp whistles coming closer and closer no matter how fast you’d tried to run. It felt endless, the harsh scratches of the branches on your skin as you held the machete close- praying you didn’t end up having to use it.

“Demons!” Lev whisper-shouted, altering you to the growling that seemed to be encroaching faster than the seraphites could- their hellacious moans of plea ingrained into your memory. He tried to ready his bow, pulling an arrow from his quiver before your hand rose to stop him- hand securing around his wrist.

You shook your head, pointing ahead to the glow of fire in the distance, the area was populated solely by seraphites now- seeing as the treaty fell through. That meant even the smallest noise that could indicate human life would be used as a call sign, sending the hunters out. With a group coming in from behind you and no way to go ahead, you nodded towards the right path, that being the only one seemingly uninhabited. You loosened your grip, urging him to take hold of Yara and run.

Yara nodded swiftly, understanding your plan wordlessly. It was just like that between you two, spending so much time together growing up- despite the age difference, you could read each other like a book. “May she protect you.” She spoke in a hushed whisper, coming to take hold of Lev and practically drag him away from you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, choosing to trust you knew a way out of this.

“May she guide you.” You whispered, not loud enough for her to hear as you bolted towards the left, hearing a sharp whistle follow your movements. The goal was to make as much noise as possible, draw them as far as you could from Yara and Lev so they could find a safe place to hide out. They were the ones the elders wanted most of all, your collaboration being shaken off as rebellious youth. If you got caught, your punishment wouldn’t be half as bad as the torture that awaited them back home.

The rain picked up, soaking through your clothes as you flew blindly through the trees. You could feel the branches snagging your clothes, causing rips in the loose material before you came to a sudden stop- the whistling seemingly coming to an end as you panted. It was quiet, not even the growling of demons permeating the tense overhang of silence, causing your stomach to lurch. They knew you were here, so where were they?

You got your answer as you felt two arms wrap around your waist, pinning your arms to your side, causing your machete to fall to the damp forest floor. “We found an apostate!” A gruff voice shouted, making your ears ring, their fingers digging into your skin hard enough that you began to feel blood trickle. “No more running.”

You stifled a scream, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. You knew this was bad, worse than bad actually, feeling another set of hands come to grip your left arm- allowing the first man to settle into the flesh of your right. You’d begun to make peace with the idea of dying tonight, your suffering surely ending in a much swifter way than they’d allow Lev or Yara. It was worth it, in your eyes, to die for such a cause. “The prophet abhors blind followers of evil.” You choked out, trying to dig your heels into the ground as they drug you back towards the fire.

The man on the right snorted, almost choking on his spit as he laughed. “Don’t tell me what the prophet abhors, apostate.” He snarled, squeezing tighter as he pushed through a thick brush. “You hold no right to her words.” As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Your ties to the prophet being cut when you chose to leave, to search for freedom elsewhere.

They pushed a thick branch out of the way, the harsh orange firelight blinding you as they came to a stop before a woman you recognized as Helah. If there was one person you’d always be able to find in a crowd, it was her. From her spindly arms to the mass of dark hair pinned to her scalp, she’d always sent a chill down your spine, now more so- her focus being on a girl struggling to keep her feet on a bucket just a tad too short, a rope tightening around her thick neck.

Her impossibly dark eyes settled on you as she turned, letting her knife fall to her side as she looked upon you in contempt. “You.” She spoke, tilting her head as she came closer. With every step she took towards you, you could slowly begin to make out the splatter of blood that burned her unnaturally pale face- making you shift uncomfortably in the men's arms, from what you could gather- these bodies were her doing. “Your mother begged us to find you, to save you from the demons.”

You winced at the mention of your mother, imagining her falling to her knees before the elders- begging them to spare the only daughter she’d ever come to bring full term. You tried to shake off the thoughts, knowing this was her game, manipulation being her weapon of choice. You couldn’t let her get the high ground, not knowing what could possibly come of her supposed ‘mercy’ as allotted by the elders. “The only demons I need saving from are you people.”

One of the men kicked your legs out from under you, making you fall forward as they finally relinquished their grip on your arms. The feeling of the moist earth under you was an almost welcome sensation if it hadn’t been for the words you’d heard slipping from the lips of the woman standing above you now.

“Clip her wings.”

A horrified scream was ripped from your throat as you tried to scramble off of the ground, motions halted by hands pushing you back down- cheek pressed roughly into the hard ground. You could feel the rocks digging into your skin as you tried to wriggle away, harsh sobs falling from your lips. As a last resort, you cast your eyes upward, coming to connect with the dangling girl.

She looked on in gargled disbelief, face turning an unhealthy shade of red as she held your gaze. What did they mean by clipping your wings? It wasn’t something she’d ever heard of in passing during the time of the treaty. Her stomach lurched, as she watched you closely, almost forgetting the fact that she was also fighting for her life. Though, she couldn’t manage to tear her gaze away, the horror in your eyes sending shivers down her spine. In those moments, it felt like time moved in slow motion, watching as the repulsive-looking man brought down a massive hammer to the joint of your elbow. The screams embedded themselves into her chest, every shrill, ear-piercing noise committed to memory.

You couldn’t breathe, the white-hot pain filling your entire body as you felt him hand off the hammer. The shock had sent your body into a primal shudder, twitching uncontrollably as you tried to conceptualize the pain- you had to get up. You had to get up now. Your working arm was held down in place, dirty nails cutting into your skin, leaving you to try to use your broken one as leverage. “Oh, god.” You whimpered, the pain shooting into your shoulder with every movement.

Suddenly, the man’s hand on your wrist went limp- the large hammer coming to land with an obnoxious thump on the ground by your head. The newfound freedom giving you the chance to pull yourself away from the other man, hand securing on the fallen hammer. As you turned yourself around, you saw the man lying with an arrow poking out from the back of his head, though your curiosity was short-lived- attention being caught by the short, struggling breaths coming from behind you.

The girl secured her legs around Helah’s throat, holding her in place as she struggled with catching small puffs of air. You stared in amazement for a moment before sense kicked back in, pushing yourself off of the ground. The pain took a backseat to the problem at hand, legs trembling under your weight as you used your remaining strength to swing the hammer to wedge into the woman's skull- seeing her instantly fall limp, the girl letting her fall to the ground as she relaxed her legs.

“Help me.” The blonde wheezed, eyes beginning to roll back into her skull, face turning a sickly shade of blue. The bucket was long gone, lost in the struggle between her and Helah, causing her to swing haphazardly on the tensed rope. The world was beginning to dot in black, pupils tiny from the lack of oxygen. She didn’t even have to grab the woman, it was a choice she made in the moment- seeing the way she delighted in the suffering of a seemingly innocent girl. Maybe it was her conscious dictating her actions, or maybe, it was a nagging voice in the back of her head- telling her that if it was her, she’d like to think you do the same thing. How she could know that was beyond her, it didn’t make sense logically, but it was enough for her.

You nodded quickly, hissing as you grabbed your broken arm in an attempt to not strain it anymore. You eased yourself onto the ground, feeling around under Helah’s body for the knife she’d been planning to use on the girl. “I’m sorry.” You huffed, stifled breaths breaking your words as you finally found the blade. You got back to your feet, wasting no time in your sawing of the thick rope. It came apart with a harsh snapping noise, sending the girl onto the ground hard.

Yara bounded out of the darkness, your lost machete in hand as she looked at the two of you frantically. “Demons, we have to go!” She rushed, motioning to the path leading left, Lev following her lead as she pushed forward. Her eyes tried to avoid your limp arm, the discoloration seeping from your joint down to your fingertips, guilt overtaking her.

You nodded, urging them to go, as you looked at the girl. “Are you okay?” It was simple, something so seemingly meaningless, but enough to convey the appreciation you felt towards her. She was the only reason you weren’t dead, feeling absolutely sure that Helah would’ve ended you before your friends could save you.

She nodded, pulling the rope from around her neck before dipping down to jerk the hammer from the woman's skull. “Can you still run?” She asked, hearing the noises of infected closing in. The last thing she wanted was to let you die, seeing as she now felt just as indebted to you as you did her.

“Yeah, yes. I think.” You grunted, pulling your lifeless arm to your chest as you gave her a curt nod. “We have to go, come on.”

The blonde eyed you for a second before giving in, giving you a small nudge forward as she took off in the direction of what she assumed were your friends. She could hear your slowed footfalls behind her, making her cut her pace to let you pass her. If anything was to catch up, she could handle them- but in your state, you’d be too easily overtaken.

It didn’t take long for the two kids to come into view, their bodies moving nimbly through the trees as they seemed to have a rendezvous spot in mind. You didn’t even consider asking about their plan, focusing solely on just making it there- the mind-numbing pain being the only source of drive you had left. You stumbled, feet getting caught up on a root that blended into the dark earth, acting just fast enough to catch yourself on a nearby tree, your arm falling limply to your side.

“I can carry you if you need.”

You shook off her offer, panting lightly before pushing forward- not even able to grab at your arm anymore. Every breath rattled your body, sending indescribable jolts of pain reverberating through your nervous system, if you’d not known any better you’d have assumed this was what dying felt like- but you’d always been classified as the dramatic type, so you tried not to dwell on it. “I can make it.” You attested, not fully believing your own words, but pushing forward nonetheless.

The forest felt endless, from blindly following Yara’s lead to dodging infected spewing from unknown sources- it was like it was trapping you here. In a constant state of suspended terror, you dragged behind, feeling the burly girl's unrelenting aura looming over you with every step. She was different from the other wolves, you’d gathered in your short time with her, her attitude about your situation border lining empathy. It was something you’d never expect from her kind, having spent most of your life running from their old-world weapons.

“Here!” Lev called behind to you, seeing your figure slowly encroaching on the two of them, he wanted to run back to help but restrained himself- seeing the shadows morph into fungus-ridden figures trailing after the pair of you, he nocked his bow in preparation.

The girl ushered you forward, turning her back to you whilst you slid through behind Yara, allowing Lev to enter before she followed behind him- making sure no infected managed to come in behind the four of you. Her hair was sticking wildly to her face, eyes blown with adrenaline as she pushed herself through the hole. “Where from here?” She gasped, catching her breath as she peered around at the three of you standing at a fenced-in gap.

Yara was inspecting your arm silently, leaving Lev to speak on her behalf. “The fence, it’s new, we have to go through there.” He explained, his bow remaining tense in his hands as he watched the girl carefully.

She nodded, coming to kneel next to the fence. Her hands latched in the lattice holes, grunting slightly as she pulled the wire away from the pole. She managed to get it loose, holding it open for the three of you to pass.

“Go ahead.” You halted Yara, pushing her gently towards the exit, not giving her the option to object. Her eyes lingered on your arm before giving a hesitant step towards the hole in the fence, giving it a once over before getting down on her hands and knees to crawl through. “Lev, you next.” He bore no hesitation, following Yara’s motions.

You bent down next to the girl, ducking your head through the hole and using your feet to push yourself out to the other side, hearing her mutter a soft ‘watch your arm’ unconsciously. You heeded her words and pulled the limb to your chest, holding it firmly in place as you found your footing again, only to be grabbed by a force strong enough to rival that of what you imagined a god could. A choked scream passed through your lips, cut off by the neckline of your shirt coming to press uncomfortably around your throat- whoever had you was using the fabric of your shirt to dangle you just above the ground.

“Goddamn it, leave her alone!” Her gruff voice rang out, finally wriggling herself free from the fencing, coming to bring the hammer down on the person's knuckles. It was enough for them to release you, letting you fall to your feet, their attention now solely on the wolf. Something she didn’t mind, her abilities lying mainly in her uncanny strength, as you’d come to notice. She took in the massive woman, eyes zeroing on the straps of an oh-so-familiar bag that hung on her back- practically straining against her massive shoulders. It lit a fire in her, her fingers tensing over the handle of the hammer- tilting her head slightly. “Is that my fucking backpack?” She shouted, quickly dodging out of the way of her massive pick, and taking a few stunned steps back.

You stumbled away from the pair, whipping around just as Lev let an arrow fly- landing in the woman's shoulder- sharpened stone burying itself in the muscle, giving the wolf a moment to strike. It was like watching feral dogs fight, strike- yelp- strike. They both had the strength to overpower normal people, but when paired together it was one immovable force meeting another.

The girl locked her hand in the strap of the backpack, jerking the woman back just as she struck- hammer embedded in her skull. It was like destroying a sand castle, her body crumbling right before you in a mass of blood and muscle, it took one hit. “Fucking hell.” She hissed, kneeling down beside the woman’s body to strip her of the backpack that was rightfully hers- not hesitating to retrieve the hammer either. “We almost there?”

Yara nodded quickly, pointing towards a building marked with a large seraphite symbol. “I-it should be right through there,” She began, glancing around nervously, anticipating the arrival of more soldiers- or worse wolves. “We have to hurry, she might not make it much further.”

The words sent a pang of guilt into your stomach, causing you to shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise. I can make it.” You assured, glancing over to the bloodied girl, not letting your eyes linger for too long. You didn’t want to be seen as a burden, even now with a lame arm, you could still keep going- you had to. It wasn’t for lack of trying, that your convincing words fell through, no it was the sight of your now blood-red fingers peeking out from your shirt sleeve that caused the three of them to share a look of concern. “Let’s go, now, before they catch up.”

The wolf stayed close behind you, eyes trained on the crimson of your fingers as she racked her brain for a possible explanation. Her father being a doctor meant nothing in the long run, leaving her with a basic knowledge of injuries, not nearly enough to account for what had happened to you. “How’s the arm?” She hummed, not wanting to bother you too much in case her presence began to cause you to recoil from her, seeing how differently you two were.

“Bearable.” You managed, doing anything to not think about the numbness that had begun to creep into your arm. You knew it wasn’t a good sign, seeing as normally when you got injuries- even bad ones, they continued to hurt. This was a new sensation, one that sent a dread-filled ball into your stomach. “Thank you, by the way.” You added, your dull eyes coming up to meet hers as you pushed a bramble push to the side so you could pass.

She chuckled, the noise lightening the mood for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “Don’t mention it.” She spoke quietly, coming to a stop in front of the warehouse ledge, lifting herself effortlessly onto the platform before turning to you- offering her hand. “Can I ask a question?” It was something she hadn’t been able to shake, the idea of ‘wing clipping’ being something regularly used in scar life, she wanted to gain perspective- though after she asked, she realized how bad a time this might be.

You took her help gratefully, scaling the wall with minimal effort. Once your feet were back on solid ground you nodded at her, using your good arm to pull your lame one close to your body, trying not to hit it on anything. It had gotten easier to deal with the arm, though you’d begun feeling an uncomfortable chill creeping up your spine as the minutes dragged on. “Ask away.” You prompted, watching as she took hold of the latch- pulling the heavy metal off of the ground so the three of you could slide in under the door.

“Do the scars clip wings.. a lot?” She spoke once you’d all made it under, letting the heavy door fall closed with a ridiculously loud bang. Her hands came to her pants legs, wiping off the rust that had detached from the old metal, leaving red stains on the taut cargo.

The words made you shudder unconsciously, the flashes of burning hot pain plaguing your memory. For something so recent, you could’ve sworn this ache was ancient, rattling even the strongest pieces of your will. “Seraphites, and,” You paused, shaking off the unwelcome recollections. “It’s not the go-to method of punishment if that’s what you’re asking.” It was mainly true, wing clipping being reserved only for the apostates they had no will to kill. Their goal was to maim them enough that they wouldn’t consider disobeying again, and usually, it worked. “It’s reserved for the ones the council decides to spare.”

Her brows knitted together, “Spare?” From her viewpoint, this seemed worse than death, the bones surely crushed into powder by the sheer amount of times she man brought the hammer down onto the joint. The memory made her want to crawl out of her skin, hammer suddenly feeling much heavier, the screams being the worst thing she’d ever heard in her life. “This is what they consider sparing people?” She wanted to say more but stopped herself, not understanding why she cared so much about the goings of scars.

“I’m just glad to be alive.”

She nodded, finding that a good enough reason to drop the conversation there. “Grab any supplies you find, okay?”

Lev almost choked on his own spit, looking at Yara and then at you. “We can’t touch this stuff, it’s old world.” His words hung in the air between you as you gave him a half-shrug. His mouth snapped shut before he turned on his heel, using the tip of an arrow to move stuff on the tables around- your reply wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t dare to fight against it.

You came to stand with Yara, her hands trembling as she thumbed through different stacks of old material. “You okay?” You hummed, swallowing thickly as her glossy eyes met your own, indicating she was nowhere near it. She was such a strong girl, pushing aside her emotions for the sake of others. She was so good at it, it had become her fatal flaw.

She nodded curtly, dropping her eyes back down to the sheets of fabric, stuffing them in her pocket haphazardly. “I’m sorry, sister.” She whispered, doing everything in her power to keep her voice steady. “I went back for your machete, I... I thought I’d be able to get to you in time.” She turned on her heel, coming to face you fully, tears brimming her dark eyes. “I was wrong.”

The sight made your stomach twist into knots, free arm coming to wrap around her shoulders gently- pulling her small frame into your chest. She’d been the sister you needed through childhood, becoming the closest thing to blood you had besides your mother. It crushed you to hear her blame herself for something that should've never had to happen, the blame falling on the group you’d once thought was home. “She sees your love, she doesn’t blame you. Neither do i.” You hummed, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid letting the brimming tears escape, ignoring the faint feeling that had crept into your head as you held her.

A cough drew you from the embrace, causing you to turn in response- the movement almost knocking you off of your feet. “We found a way forward, might even be a couple places to rest.” The wolf spoke, nodding towards a door Lev stood by, seeing it barely hanging onto its hinges as rain droplets slowly raced down the corrupted frame. “Are you feeling okay?” She spoke suddenly, not letting you fit a word in before stepping forward, the back of her hand coming in contact with your forehead.

You almost took a step backward, your heart jumping into your throat at the heat of her touch. It felt like she was on fire, her skin burning into yours as she spared Yara a nervous glance. “What’s wrong, why are you so hot?” You asked, tearing away from her touch with a slight tremble in your legs. You brought your own hand up, pressing it to your forehead in the same manner she had- pulling away quickly, finding your hand coated in sweat.

“You have a fever, we need to get you out of here, now.” She pushed forward, not letting you object as she scooped you into her arms- careful to not crush your arm further. This was something she knew wasn’t a good sign, meaning you’d contracted an infection or worse.

The sudden change left your head spinning, the body heat radiating off of the girl making you uncomfortably hot as you writhed in her arms, fighting in a sense. Not against her but against her unbearable heat, though in your eyes currently- they were one and the same. “You’re so hot, wolf, I can't breathe.” You knew she wasn’t doing this out of malice, quite the opposite actually, but sense evaded you in your current state.

She pushed through the doorway, eyes locking on a trailer on the far side of the yard- her feet picking up pace as she held you firmly in place. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She managed, on any other day she would’ve made some tasteless joke about her being hot, but she settled on this not being the time for it. She could feel your body shuddering, still trying to fight off her warmth as she practically broke down the trailer door- kicking it open so hard it left a door knob-sized hole in the panel wall.

Lev followed closely behind her, closing the door behind Yara to avoid drawing any more attention. “Is she gonna be okay?” He asked gingerly, putting his bow to rest on the dusty countertop. He knew the wolf didn’t seem like a healer, so she probably wouldn't know, but it was worth it to at least ask.

The girl gently let your body press into the moth-eaten couch, her arms sliding from beneath you with ease. “Can I?’ She asked, nodding to your arm, seeing the purple tint your fingers had taken on in the time it had taken the four of you to get out of the woods. A nod was all she needed, her hands coming to your arm.

One hand held your wrist, and the other pushed the linen of your tattered long-sleeved shirt up past your elbow. As the extent of your injury came to the light, nobody moved. The air felt stale, not even a ragged breath cutting through the anxious silence. You glanced down, the sight drawing a sharp gasp from your mouth, dark red pigmented your skin down to your fingers, which now took on a darker more purple hue. It looked like something a child would draw, devoid of all sense of tone, hung high in some disease-ridden home.

“I can set it, That might help.” The wolf spoke, eyes betraying her thoughts as she glanced up at you, trying to make it less scary. If maybe by some miracle this could work, she’d try just about anything. “Let me do that, okay?”

You didn’t even think to object, giving her a tiny nod. “Yara, the cloth.” You spoke, looking between her at the girl. “That would help, right?” You checked, having the most inept idea of healing from your time spent sneaking around the healer's hut for herbs.

Yara dug into her pockets, drawing out a handful of thick strips of cloth- immediately placing them into the hands of the girl. “I can go find more if we need more.” She rushed, watching closely as the girl turned them in her hands.

She nodded, “This is perfect, thank you.” She gave the younger girl a tight-lipped smile, kneeling beside the couch. She brought the chair leg to rest on her knee, popping the fabric on top of it, as she placed her hands at the wrist and just above the elbow. This was going to hurt, a lot, and the only way she could think to do it- was by distracting you. “What’s your name?”

“It’s-,” You began, only to be met with a harsh crack and a searing pain filling your arm. From your fingers to your shoulder, it felt like someone had sent you through initiation again, fire licking at your skin. “-My god!” You hissed in response, a choked sob escaping your trembling lips.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” She shushed gently, letting your arm come to rest on the cushions as she picked the chair leg up- fitting it to your arm. “You’re gonna be okay-?” She drew out, waiting for you to finish your previous sentence

“(y/n), my n-name is (y/n).” You forced through the pain, breathing labored as you felt her secure the wood to your arm- straightening it permanently to let it heal. You had no idea if it would work, but you chose to trust her, not considering the fact that she might have just been lying for the sake of your comfort. “What’s yours?”

She smiled slightly, finishing up her work, letting her forearms come to rest on her knee. “Abby.” It was like some switch inside of her had flipped, all thoughts of her original reason for coming out here being lost in her subconscious, heart jumping with anxious beats at the idea of leaving the three of you here- but she had to go, much to her dismay.

“Abby.” You repeated sluggishly, getting a feel for it on your lips, earning a small chuckle from her. “Thank you, Abby.”

Abby stood, glancing between the two kids standing off to the side- looking visibly relieved. “I have to go, try not to make any noise. '' She warned, knowing the wolves had not cleared this area of infected yet. If they needed to be scared of anyone, it was the flesh-hungry infected that ran these woods. The ache to stay threatened her chest, forcing her to move faster. She pushed out of the door, halting on the wet steps as she turned on her heel- coming face to face with the boy she now knew as Lev.

“Listen, kid. Whatever shape she’s in, you need to be out of here by tomorrow.” Her words came out rushed, her hand digging into the door frame as she loomed over him, watching as his lips set into a thin line. She didn’t know what else to say, already conflicted enough, so she just took a step back. “Don’t let her die because you wanted to be a hero.”

╰╮later

The night passed in a blur of delusion-filled hallucinations, the pain creeping back into you when you least expected it. So when the light of morning poured through the tattered curtains, you thanked the prophet for the ability to even see another day- having thought many times you’d just die with the next flutter of your eyelids.

“Here, drink this.” Yara hummed, holding a small water bottle up beside your head- waiting for you to part your now chapped lips. Her hands shook slightly, letting the liquid drip out of the bottle slowly to avoid making you choke. She’d not slept, spending the night hovering over you just to be sure you were still breathing, making her even more cautious in her pouring.

You swallowed the water gratefully, feeling the ache in your throat dull slightly with the moisture. “Thank you, but really, try to rest before we have to leave.” You pleaded, eyes glossed over with the usual maternal worry you reserved for the siblings. “It’s gonna-,”

Your words were cut off by the door swinging open, Yara immediately reaching for Lev’s bow on the counter her hands moved faster than you could follow, nocking an arrow and letting it fly in just seconds before a familiar voice called out from behind the door. ‘It’s me!” They began, slowly coming around the corner, face flushed.

Yara let out a stressed breath, watching Lev rise from his sleep with a confused expression on his face. “On the prophet, have you heard of knocking?” She huffed, letting the bow fall back onto the counter as she crossed the room to collect Lev’s (definitely broken) arrow.

“Abby?” You spoke quietly, voice hoarse as you gazed up at her approaching form, her name still feeling foreign on your lips. “What are you doing here?”

The blonde shook her head shortly, kneeling down by the edge of the couch- leveling with you, letting her gaze rake over the sickly flush of your face. “You deserve a shot, (y/n).” She spoke, bringing a hand to rest on your uninjured one tenderly. “I’m here to give you one.”

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