Drabbletag - Poetic
Title: Stanzaic
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Poetic
Fandom: The Last Of Us
Pairing: Ellie/Riley
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
Notes: Canon character death
Ellie should probably be used to gunshots by now. In a way, she is. They’re a part of her life, the world she and Joel are stuck in, although that doesn’t stop her heart freezing a little each time at the sheer volume of them.
But every so often, the sound of them gets to her. Rips something open inside, even if the bullets come nowhere near her.
Every so often, she’s taken back, caught in memories she doesn’t want but can’t escape.
Riley said it would be poetic, them losing their minds together. And Ellie, gullible and hopeful as ever, believed her.
It’s not Riley’s fault, Ellie knows that.
But once again, Riley left her behind.
There wasn’t any poetry in the sag of Riley’s shoulders, the looseness in her jaw. Ellie watched the light go out in Riley’s eyes, but Riley didn’t fall, stumbling forward, her mind already lost.
Ellie waited for hers to go too. She waited days, holed up in a tiny closet with Riley clawing mindlessly at the door. She waited until her stomach ached from hunger, until she was dizzy from lack of sleep.
The end never came, and when she threw the door open, when Riley snarled at her, there was no recognition in Riley’s eyes.
She didn’t recognise Ellie. She didn’t recognise her own gun.
All the gunfire Ellie’s heard, none of it has been as loud as Riley’s gun in her hand, the sound of Riley finally, finally falling for good.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Poetic
Fandom: The Last Of Us
Pairing: Ellie/Riley
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
Notes: Canon character death
Ellie should probably be used to gunshots by now. In a way, she is. They’re a part of her life, the world she and Joel are stuck in, although that doesn’t stop her heart freezing a little each time at the sheer volume of them.
But every so often, the sound of them gets to her. Rips something open inside, even if the bullets come nowhere near her.
Every so often, she’s taken back, caught in memories she doesn’t want but can’t escape.
Riley said it would be poetic, them losing their minds together. And Ellie, gullible and hopeful as ever, believed her.
It’s not Riley’s fault, Ellie knows that.
But once again, Riley left her behind.
There wasn’t any poetry in the sag of Riley’s shoulders, the looseness in her jaw. Ellie watched the light go out in Riley’s eyes, but Riley didn’t fall, stumbling forward, her mind already lost.
Ellie waited for hers to go too. She waited days, holed up in a tiny closet with Riley clawing mindlessly at the door. She waited until her stomach ached from hunger, until she was dizzy from lack of sleep.
The end never came, and when she threw the door open, when Riley snarled at her, there was no recognition in Riley’s eyes.
She didn’t recognise Ellie. She didn’t recognise her own gun.
All the gunfire Ellie’s heard, none of it has been as loud as Riley’s gun in her hand, the sound of Riley finally, finally falling for good.