the wind, it blew me to you - abby x seraphite reader
after having to run away from the island and survive the dangers of seattle, you stumble upon abby, runaway wolf who has nowhere else to be and could use some company.
so protip if u want a signed photo/item from abby/ellie (laura/ashley) go to signet collectibles website and u can order one
Discover exclusive autographed collectibles from your favorite fandoms. From superheroes to anime, Signet Collectibles brings you authentic
u can even send in an item to be signed!!
there is an option for troy baker (joel) but its very limited and with abby and ellie you can customize what you want (where/pen color/pen type/a phrase/ character name, etc)
check it out and share with friends!!!
(tagging u pookie so ppl can see fank yew @alloftheimagines )
secret secrets are no fun. secret secrets hurt someone. abby's been keeping secrets. (accidentally)
word count: 3,660
masterlist here
please tell me yall know that scene from the office with the stripper
tags: @hakandnsjoqmsn @mumuming @alloftheimagines
if i forgot ur tag let me know also tell me if u want to be tagged
lowkey i tried to make it as non-descript as possible to be as x-reader as possible but with how the seraphites were ur just going to have to have the style hair they do with the (assumingly) straight longer hair with the signature braids yknow so if ur bald u have hair now congrats
abby's soap smells good. it's all you can smell every time a breeze passes by. your hair's dried now, in one simple plait behind your head. the soap scent lingers on both you and abby.
it's weird. not just that you're so attached to this wolf and following her everywhere. it's weird to feel the one braid swing back and forth. braids had been a ritual every morning. hair was always pulled out of the way to make your life easier, to keep from getting in the way. now it was brushing against your shirt, falling over your shoulder every time you leaned to pick something out of a bush or pick up supplies from the ground.
and back on the island, over time, you’d forgotten about your hair. there was no need to see it when it was pinned up and tied back. now it makes you angry to see it swaying in your eye sight every so often.
a small growl escapes you, hand pushing the braid away in annoyance. you’re leaned over a fruit bush just off the shoulder of the road, picking the best berries out for a snack. abby, standing on the main road and waiting for you, snorts.
“why’d you grow it out if you hate it?”
“it’s just what we do.”
abby’s nice. she’s so much nicer than you thought. seriously, she had a gun to your face a few days ago and now she’s not even bothering to correct your sentence. it still doesn’t feel real, not being a seraphite anymore. you technically still are one, being who you are, but you’re disowned.
“and… normally it was in the braids. around my head- not down my back.” you swing around with a handful of berries and walk back to where abby stands.
abby’s got a playful smile on. she doesn’t comment any further.
the walk continues.
the road stays steady as you go further into rural areas. it’s flat, in tact, and empty. less demons to bomb, you think. you chew on a few berries as you look around. your hand stretches over to abby. she takes a few berries as well.
“have you ever been here? this far south?” you start asking her questions, curious about her, about the world outside of the island.
she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and shakes her head. “no, never.”
“where are we going?” you continue to watch her face as you walk and eat.
abby’s not looking at you. her eyes are wandering. you can tell it’s not the ‘safety search’ style of wandering.
“a friend of mine, he heard about survivors further south in a city called santa barbara.”
you hum at the name of the city. it’s different. you’ve only known ‘seattle’ and the half-rotted signs you occasionally see on the island. there’s also a hesitation in you to ask more. something’s off with abby.
“did your friend already go there?” you offer some more berries. something in you just knows you’re approaching a touchy subject. you use the berries to displace any reactions. lucky for you, you’ve tamed this wolf and you don’t even know it. neither does she.
she grabs a few more berries and holds them. “no, it was just a lead. there’s… not really any proof that they’re actually there.”
you give her a nod and finish the last mouthful of berries. the truth doesn’t really scare you that much. no more than leaving seattle did. so what if nothing’s there. abby doesn’t see it like that. she needs the fireflies to be there. she needs to find someone.
—
it’s getting later into the day when abby decides to veer off to a gas station. you’d since come upon another town, small and quiet. passing a rotting house, you can hear something shuffling behind piles of rubble, but both of you can tell it’s nothing to worry about if it hadn’t already come out to chase you.
there’s already a window broken, so there might not even be anything worth finding. it’s more-so a break from the walking and restlessness. it’s the lower section of the storefront’s windows, just one square busted out by someone’s foot. abby has to kick away the glass shards as much as she can before she crouches and moves under the structural bar keeping the wall up.
“careful.” abby mutters as she helps you maneuver through the broken panel. you stand up with the help of her steady hand. she keeps her gun in hand, ready to point and shoot at any threat.
the store is still. nothing makes noise as your shoes crunch through bits of glass. nothing jumps out at you to claw at your neck and bite into your jugular. abby relaxes a little and so do you.
you shuffle over to one side, near the register counter. abby moves to the other side. it’s calm as you both rifle through empty packaging and trash. it doesn’t stay for long, because as soon as you reach the end of the aisle, something jumps out and swings at you. this time, it’s a living person.
she wildly swings and screams and runs forward, knocking you down to the linoleum floor. you start crawling backwards as quick as you can, back towards the counter and behind it. she follows. she digs her fingers into your hair and scratches your scalp along the way.
“i am not dying! leave me alone!” the woman screams, yanking at your hair viciously as you try to crawl away. your right elbow knocks against a hard object that’s hidden underneath the sleeping bag. with your left hand, you reach over and behind the elbow and grab it, swinging your arm at the woman with it. it hits her in the collarbone. your eyes are squeezing shut as you flinch away from her hands.
the hand lets go of your braid and you’re not be crowded into the floor anymore. your hands swing again, clutching at the weapon to keep a good grip on it. a loud pop sounds, a body collapses.
it’s not exactly quiet. there’s a ringing in your ears that’s taking it’s time to go away, but ultimately the store is quiet. the fight’s over. when you open your eyes, you can see in your hands sits a small handgun, clumsily clutched. your fingers are splayed over the sides of the gun, far from proper holding technique. it’s not even your pointer finger on the trigger, it’s your ring finger.
the silence is brief, just seconds, and the fight didn’t last more than thirty seconds, so you’re stunned and dazed on the floor.
abby’s boots are shuffling and she rounds the corner of the counter, face pinched with shock and concern. she’d heard the commotion and barely made it out of her aisle when the shot rang out.
her eyes land on you, steps slow, face turning into something you’d see when you try to approach a stray animal. you’re laid on the ground, on your back, leaning up just enough to be pointing the gun you just shot someone with. you haven’t lowered the gun yet.
you’re speechless, much like abby is as she stares at you while you stare at the gun. “uh-” your hands cradle the gun as if it’ll go off again any second. “it’s loud- that’s really loud.”
in turn, abby’s hands cradle your head. she’s moved in quickly, crouching and reaching towards you quickly. you flinch away, hands pulling the gun away and to the side, scared it would go off with her in front of you. her hands pull back a touch, eyes following your hands, then she’s closing in again. she’s gentle- trying to ease the shock.
“you’re okay? did she get you?” she’s turning your head, left hand feeling at the base of your skull, where your hair is torn and ragged. you feel it now, the pain.
the gun clatters on the ground and your hands grab at her wrists to pull away. your face twists into a wince. “don’t-”
“stop, stop… let me…” abby ignores your hands, checking for blood. for as gentle as her hands are, it’s hard to pull away from her with how strong she is. sure enough, there’s some bleeding from your lower scalp, hair ratty from the tugging and you’ve definitely lost a small handful. the only way it’s not on the floor is because it’s still braided in with the remaining hair.
there’s a screech outside. it’s too close for comfort.
“alright- come on, we have to go.” abby ushers you up, picking up the gun from the ground and pulling you past the woman- the body of the woman who you just fought. something jingles against the floor behind you in the mess of supplies the woman had been using. car keys. abby’s quick to pick them up and focus again.
when she glances at the woman, she sees a clear bite mark on the wrist. the skin around it is red and angry, infection already setting in.
as abby walks you to the back of the building, to the other exit, you can hear whatever made that screech is crawling through the broken glass at the windows.
when you both step outside, abby spots the run-down car hidden under some tarps and branches- something placed there by that woman back inside. you both work on uncovering it before climbing in to see if it works.
it does, and abby deems the gas to be enough to get out of the town and away from any infected finding you after the gunshot. she drives with ease, and it makes you grab onto the door handle from how she swerves the car around the building and onto the road.
“what did she mean? why was she screaming about dying?” you ask, still shaken from the sudden attack.
“she was bit. probably thought she could outlive it.” abby answers, checking the mirrors and even turning to look out the back window herself. there’s a clicker making it’s way back out of the store, in the direction of the car. it’s too far away to catch up now. “it can drive you crazy if you want to live that badly when you know you’re dying.”
you let silence take over as you think about it, and it gives you chills to think about the death sentence of a bite. when you turn to look out the window, the sting of your ripped hair and scratched scalp gets you thinking for the drive.
—
the car starts to feel suffocating and you don’t know how long its been since abby started driving. you’d started to think to yourself, ‘surely we can’t have this much gas’, and that was when she finally turned off to a side road, following it towards the coast.
“it’ll be quieter at the water.” she says, eyes staying forward to search for signs of a town or houses. she didn’t even have to say it. both of you know the water is not were infected would stick around.
you feel relieved to be going back to the water. the walking and the drive were all inland, and you were starting to feel trapped. you sometimes wished you could just find a boat and take it all the way to santa barbara.
there’s a parking lot in front of the beach that abby pulls into when you finally reach the coast. she pulls all the way up to the old world barrier and shuts the car off. you must be running out of gas, if you had to guess from the way she sighs and slouches a little.
the sun is just going down when you step out of the car and towards the shore. it’s peaceful and beautiful. the waves are small, just lapping at the sand, and you feel a bit more clearheaded. there’s no infected that you can see. the beach is clear from debris and trash. you’re glad this place wasn’t populated when the old world died, otherwise you’d be standing in rubble.
abby’s next after you, walking up after she grabs her bag from the back seat.
she’s focused on your hair as she approaches, and you look at her as she touches your shoulder. she moves the ragged braid to check the damage. you turn your head and let her. you can feel yourself getting choked up from the stress of the attack and the overwhelm from your hair all day.
when abby notices your jaw clenching, she lets go of the braid and steps back.
“just cut it off” your words are wet, wavering, sad, and most of all insistent. “please.”
your shoulders shiver with the effort it takes to hold back tears. you don’t hear a response from abby or any movement for a few moments, then her shirt rustles as she moves her arm towards you.
“you don’t have to..” her hand starts hovering around your bicep, unsure if it will just set you off further.
“just do it.” you insist further, voice strengthening. you want it to be over with already. the weight of your hair leaves your shoulder as abby gently grabs the braid. “i’ve been thinking the whole drive. i can’t keep it anymore.”
there’s a click of a switchblade. she’s hesitating, but eventually the blade makes it to your hair. it hurts- the tugging of hair when the blade won’t quite cut through and the tenderness the woman from the gas station had caused. you wince through it all. once the short hair falls from the upper section of the braid on your scalp, abby evens it out. your hair falls just below your chin, and tucks behind your ear, save for some loose strands near your temples.
abby holds the chopped off braid in her hand and looks between you and the hair. she’s unsure of what to do with it. does she hand it to you? she decides to drop it into the sand with the rest of the hair she had previously cut. when she looks back up at you, your looking down at the hair as well. your new hair drapes down over your cheeks, covering your face. you swipe a finger at it.
“hold on.” abby mumbles, crouching down to pull the hair tie free of the cut hair. she stands again, handing it over to you so you can tie the short strands back. you’re quiet as you do, fingers feeling the short hair and how light it is now. the hair tie doesn’t hold all of your hair, so you gather what you can in it and tie off a small bun in the back, leaving it half up and half down.
when you’re done, you glance at abby. she has a weird look on her face. she’s seen a ghost. her eyes are locked onto you and your hair and she swallows thickly.
“what?” you whisper. if you talked any louder, you might slip away into the water forever and never return.
she shakes her head and forces herself to look somewhere else. you do the same, feeling different without your normal hair. your eyes wander the shoreline, then the tree line. the sun’s down now and it’s getting dark. you have to do a double take as you spot a small sign further down the beach
“abby.” you say, clearing your throat to get rid of whatever was threatening to break through. your hand rose up to point towards it so she can find it, too. “we’re near a town, i think.”
“good.” she comments, walking around you and tossing the car keys into the sand. she’s thankful for the distraction, and her eyes avoid your face awkwardly. “not enough gas to get anywhere else.”
leaving the hair in the sand behind, you both start walking towards the sign.
the path leads back to a mobile home park. it’s something you haven’t seen yet. you peer through windows, itching to see what was inside the giant cars, and very eager to get inside as the dark of the night took over.
“hey.” abby lets out a short whistle along with the word, just to get your attention. it gives you whiplash how you turn quickly, thinking there was another seraphite nearby. abby gestures towards the mobile home she’s standing in front of, door already ajar. you take a breath as you untense, then you stride over to check out the inside.
“this one’s clear, and clean enough.” she tells you as you both move inside. she shuts the door behind her, finding something to block it and hold it shut for the night. you leave her to it and explore, seeing the couches and small kitchen so close together.
“people lived in this?” you ask, opening cabinets and looking in to the small bathroom and bedroom.
“yeah, i think so.” abby says, turning to watch you. you realize then that you keep forgetting that she wasn’t alive with the old world. she seems to have all the answers of it, knowing just what to do with the cars and buildings and roads.
“i think my parents would hate this.” you try to make some sort of conversation as you both migrate around the small home. the bedroom looks almost untouched and perfect for the rest that you desperately need right now.
"they're getting older, the island itself can be hard to move around on if your joints are wearing down. i can’t imagine they’d do well in here, let alone the home on the island" your pulling your jacket off, ready to set it off to the side and deal with the somewhat stale blanket. "but we... they'll have someone to look after them— if they aren't shunned because of me." you hoped not.
"for what it’s worth..." abby comments hesitantly. “i hope they made it through the ambush.”
"what?"
your hands still, jacket slowly inching towards the floor. abby’s sat on the edge of the old mattress, still looking up at you with these eyes- sad eyes. the air begins to still.
"what did you say?" you insist on her answer again. your heart pounds and your hands feel clammy. tunnel vision sets in. your jacket hits the floor. "ambush? what happened to my home?"
her eyes turn from sad to confused. “what?”
"what happened, wolf? what did you do?" your voice is louder now. you stand stiff.
"i didn't-" she pauses, losing her words as she tries to figure out how you don’t know what she’s talking about. even if you did, she can’t exactly say she wasn’t involved. she was part of it, she was there. even if she wasn't still a wolf at the time, she was still there, watching it all burn not even an hour before you had stumbled upon her back on the mainland. “you were there, weren’t you?”
“what happened?” your voice raises some more, but also cracks. and even though you ask the same question, you’ve already guessed what happened in your head. you left your parents to die, what a coward. they’d probably been killed by wolves, no one to protect them.
“i didn’t hurt anyone that night…” she begins to explain herself, defensive on her own character. it’s as if someone had attacked her character over something similar. you don’t want to hear it.
you leave your jacket on the floor, aiming to leave the mobile home altogether to avoid abby for the night. she stands quickly.
“don’t-!” abby moves to stand between you and the door. she holds her hands up to try and calm you down. “don’t leave, don’t. it’s not safe now.”
you turn from her and walk back towards the bed, wishing the room would expand so you could walk away further than the opposite corner. your stomach churns.
“i’m sorry. i thought the ambush was why you were in the city that night.” she quietly explains. “i didn’t realize you’d ran before it happened.”
the words don’t help. they just remind you of how you’d been a coward. they make you feel even more sick.
“let’s just sleep.” you spit out, face burning. you sit on the edge of the bed, not wanting to look at her.
“okay.” she agrees.
she moves around some more and you don’t bother to figure out what she’s doing. the room is getting darker as the night grows in the short amount of time she spends doing whatever. you stay hunched over at the edge of the bed stewing in anger until she lays down on the other side.
finally, you move to lay down, too. you keep your head tilted away, and you lay on your side facing away from her. you can feel her eyes, but you don’t turn around. you breathe through your aching chest and churning stomach, and you will away the heat in your skin from the anger and shame.
abby moves just a bit, making the mattress move as well. you can hear her take in a breath and you brace yourself for her words. her voice is quiet and apologetic.
“the wolves didn’t win…” she starts. “they didn’t stand a chance against the whole island, not with isaac leading them.”
she knows you’re listening. and you are- intently. you hate that she knows.
“i wasn’t on the island for long, but i know they were taking the kids and elderly inland, away from the fight. your parents would have been with them, right?” she doesn’t wait for an answer. “they could’ve made it. the fight was over that same night. they’d be fine by now.”
you tuck your face closer to the mattress and blanket, and abby takes that as an answer. she shifts again and the room grows quiet. her breathing evens out, and eventually you can’t keep your eyes open.
oh my goshhh this chapter had everything I love 🙏🏻 the haircut scene was so powerful and reader finding out about the ambush and oh my god the way abby saw ellie in reader’s new hair nope nope nopeeeee
secret secrets are no fun. secret secrets hurt someone. abby's been keeping secrets. (accidentally)
word count: 3,660
masterlist here
please tell me yall know that scene from the office with the stripper
tags: @hakandnsjoqmsn @mumuming @alloftheimagines
if i forgot ur tag let me know also tell me if u want to be tagged
lowkey i tried to make it as non-descript as possible to be as x-reader as possible but with how the seraphites were ur just going to have to have the style hair they do with the (assumingly) straight longer hair with the signature braids yknow so if ur bald u have hair now congrats
abby's soap smells good. it's all you can smell every time a breeze passes by. your hair's dried now, in one simple plait behind your head. the soap scent lingers on both you and abby.
it's weird. not just that you're so attached to this wolf and following her everywhere. it's weird to feel the one braid swing back and forth. braids had been a ritual every morning. hair was always pulled out of the way to make your life easier, to keep from getting in the way. now it was brushing against your shirt, falling over your shoulder every time you leaned to pick something out of a bush or pick up supplies from the ground.
and back on the island, over time, you’d forgotten about your hair. there was no need to see it when it was pinned up and tied back. now it makes you angry to see it swaying in your eye sight every so often.
a small growl escapes you, hand pushing the braid away in annoyance. you’re leaned over a fruit bush just off the shoulder of the road, picking the best berries out for a snack. abby, standing on the main road and waiting for you, snorts.
“why’d you grow it out if you hate it?”
“it’s just what we do.”
abby’s nice. she’s so much nicer than you thought. seriously, she had a gun to your face a few days ago and now she’s not even bothering to correct your sentence. it still doesn’t feel real, not being a seraphite anymore. you technically still are one, being who you are, but you’re disowned.
“and… normally it was in the braids. around my head- not down my back.” you swing around with a handful of berries and walk back to where abby stands.
abby’s got a playful smile on. she doesn’t comment any further.
the walk continues.
the road stays steady as you go further into rural areas. it’s flat, in tact, and empty. less demons to bomb, you think. you chew on a few berries as you look around. your hand stretches over to abby. she takes a few berries as well.
“have you ever been here? this far south?” you start asking her questions, curious about her, about the world outside of the island.
she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and shakes her head. “no, never.”
“where are we going?” you continue to watch her face as you walk and eat.
abby’s not looking at you. her eyes are wandering. you can tell it’s not the ‘safety search’ style of wandering.
“a friend of mine, he heard about survivors further south in a city called santa barbara.”
you hum at the name of the city. it’s different. you’ve only known ‘seattle’ and the half-rotted signs you occasionally see on the island. there’s also a hesitation in you to ask more. something’s off with abby.
“did your friend already go there?” you offer some more berries. something in you just knows you’re approaching a touchy subject. you use the berries to displace any reactions. lucky for you, you’ve tamed this wolf and you don’t even know it. neither does she.
she grabs a few more berries and holds them. “no, it was just a lead. there’s… not really any proof that they’re actually there.”
you give her a nod and finish the last mouthful of berries. the truth doesn’t really scare you that much. no more than leaving seattle did. so what if nothing’s there. abby doesn’t see it like that. she needs the fireflies to be there. she needs to find someone.
—
it’s getting later into the day when abby decides to veer off to a gas station. you’d since come upon another town, small and quiet. passing a rotting house, you can hear something shuffling behind piles of rubble, but both of you can tell it’s nothing to worry about if it hadn’t already come out to chase you.
there’s already a window broken, so there might not even be anything worth finding. it’s more-so a break from the walking and restlessness. it’s the lower section of the storefront’s windows, just one square busted out by someone’s foot. abby has to kick away the glass shards as much as she can before she crouches and moves under the structural bar keeping the wall up.
“careful.” abby mutters as she helps you maneuver through the broken panel. you stand up with the help of her steady hand. she keeps her gun in hand, ready to point and shoot at any threat.
the store is still. nothing makes noise as your shoes crunch through bits of glass. nothing jumps out at you to claw at your neck and bite into your jugular. abby relaxes a little and so do you.
you shuffle over to one side, near the register counter. abby moves to the other side. it’s calm as you both rifle through empty packaging and trash. it doesn’t stay for long, because as soon as you reach the end of the aisle, something jumps out and swings at you. this time, it’s a living person.
she wildly swings and screams and runs forward, knocking you down to the linoleum floor. you start crawling backwards as quick as you can, back towards the counter and behind it. she follows. she digs her fingers into your hair and scratches your scalp along the way.
“i am not dying! leave me alone!” the woman screams, yanking at your hair viciously as you try to crawl away. your right elbow knocks against a hard object that’s hidden underneath the sleeping bag. with your left hand, you reach over and behind the elbow and grab it, swinging your arm at the woman with it. it hits her in the collarbone. your eyes are squeezing shut as you flinch away from her hands.
the hand lets go of your braid and you’re not be crowded into the floor anymore. your hands swing again, clutching at the weapon to keep a good grip on it. a loud pop sounds, a body collapses.
it’s not exactly quiet. there’s a ringing in your ears that’s taking it’s time to go away, but ultimately the store is quiet. the fight’s over. when you open your eyes, you can see in your hands sits a small handgun, clumsily clutched. your fingers are splayed over the sides of the gun, far from proper holding technique. it’s not even your pointer finger on the trigger, it’s your ring finger.
the silence is brief, just seconds, and the fight didn’t last more than thirty seconds, so you’re stunned and dazed on the floor.
abby’s boots are shuffling and she rounds the corner of the counter, face pinched with shock and concern. she’d heard the commotion and barely made it out of her aisle when the shot rang out.
her eyes land on you, steps slow, face turning into something you’d see when you try to approach a stray animal. you’re laid on the ground, on your back, leaning up just enough to be pointing the gun you just shot someone with. you haven’t lowered the gun yet.
you’re speechless, much like abby is as she stares at you while you stare at the gun. “uh-” your hands cradle the gun as if it’ll go off again any second. “it’s loud- that’s really loud.”
in turn, abby’s hands cradle your head. she’s moved in quickly, crouching and reaching towards you quickly. you flinch away, hands pulling the gun away and to the side, scared it would go off with her in front of you. her hands pull back a touch, eyes following your hands, then she’s closing in again. she’s gentle- trying to ease the shock.
“you’re okay? did she get you?” she’s turning your head, left hand feeling at the base of your skull, where your hair is torn and ragged. you feel it now, the pain.
the gun clatters on the ground and your hands grab at her wrists to pull away. your face twists into a wince. “don’t-”
“stop, stop… let me…” abby ignores your hands, checking for blood. for as gentle as her hands are, it’s hard to pull away from her with how strong she is. sure enough, there’s some bleeding from your lower scalp, hair ratty from the tugging and you’ve definitely lost a small handful. the only way it’s not on the floor is because it’s still braided in with the remaining hair.
there’s a screech outside. it’s too close for comfort.
“alright- come on, we have to go.” abby ushers you up, picking up the gun from the ground and pulling you past the woman- the body of the woman who you just fought. something jingles against the floor behind you in the mess of supplies the woman had been using. car keys. abby’s quick to pick them up and focus again.
when she glances at the woman, she sees a clear bite mark on the wrist. the skin around it is red and angry, infection already setting in.
as abby walks you to the back of the building, to the other exit, you can hear whatever made that screech is crawling through the broken glass at the windows.
when you both step outside, abby spots the run-down car hidden under some tarps and branches- something placed there by that woman back inside. you both work on uncovering it before climbing in to see if it works.
it does, and abby deems the gas to be enough to get out of the town and away from any infected finding you after the gunshot. she drives with ease, and it makes you grab onto the door handle from how she swerves the car around the building and onto the road.
“what did she mean? why was she screaming about dying?” you ask, still shaken from the sudden attack.
“she was bit. probably thought she could outlive it.” abby answers, checking the mirrors and even turning to look out the back window herself. there’s a clicker making it’s way back out of the store, in the direction of the car. it’s too far away to catch up now. “it can drive you crazy if you want to live that badly when you know you’re dying.”
you let silence take over as you think about it, and it gives you chills to think about the death sentence of a bite. when you turn to look out the window, the sting of your ripped hair and scratched scalp gets you thinking for the drive.
—
the car starts to feel suffocating and you don’t know how long its been since abby started driving. you’d started to think to yourself, ‘surely we can’t have this much gas’, and that was when she finally turned off to a side road, following it towards the coast.
“it’ll be quieter at the water.” she says, eyes staying forward to search for signs of a town or houses. she didn’t even have to say it. both of you know the water is not were infected would stick around.
you feel relieved to be going back to the water. the walking and the drive were all inland, and you were starting to feel trapped. you sometimes wished you could just find a boat and take it all the way to santa barbara.
there’s a parking lot in front of the beach that abby pulls into when you finally reach the coast. she pulls all the way up to the old world barrier and shuts the car off. you must be running out of gas, if you had to guess from the way she sighs and slouches a little.
the sun is just going down when you step out of the car and towards the shore. it’s peaceful and beautiful. the waves are small, just lapping at the sand, and you feel a bit more clearheaded. there’s no infected that you can see. the beach is clear from debris and trash. you’re glad this place wasn’t populated when the old world died, otherwise you’d be standing in rubble.
abby’s next after you, walking up after she grabs her bag from the back seat.
she’s focused on your hair as she approaches, and you look at her as she touches your shoulder. she moves the ragged braid to check the damage. you turn your head and let her. you can feel yourself getting choked up from the stress of the attack and the overwhelm from your hair all day.
when abby notices your jaw clenching, she lets go of the braid and steps back.
“just cut it off” your words are wet, wavering, sad, and most of all insistent. “please.”
your shoulders shiver with the effort it takes to hold back tears. you don’t hear a response from abby or any movement for a few moments, then her shirt rustles as she moves her arm towards you.
“you don’t have to..” her hand starts hovering around your bicep, unsure if it will just set you off further.
“just do it.” you insist further, voice strengthening. you want it to be over with already. the weight of your hair leaves your shoulder as abby gently grabs the braid. “i’ve been thinking the whole drive. i can’t keep it anymore.”
there’s a click of a switchblade. she’s hesitating, but eventually the blade makes it to your hair. it hurts- the tugging of hair when the blade won’t quite cut through and the tenderness the woman from the gas station had caused. you wince through it all. once the short hair falls from the upper section of the braid on your scalp, abby evens it out. your hair falls just below your chin, and tucks behind your ear, save for some loose strands near your temples.
abby holds the chopped off braid in her hand and looks between you and the hair. she’s unsure of what to do with it. does she hand it to you? she decides to drop it into the sand with the rest of the hair she had previously cut. when she looks back up at you, your looking down at the hair as well. your new hair drapes down over your cheeks, covering your face. you swipe a finger at it.
“hold on.” abby mumbles, crouching down to pull the hair tie free of the cut hair. she stands again, handing it over to you so you can tie the short strands back. you’re quiet as you do, fingers feeling the short hair and how light it is now. the hair tie doesn’t hold all of your hair, so you gather what you can in it and tie off a small bun in the back, leaving it half up and half down.
when you’re done, you glance at abby. she has a weird look on her face. she’s seen a ghost. her eyes are locked onto you and your hair and she swallows thickly.
“what?” you whisper. if you talked any louder, you might slip away into the water forever and never return.
she shakes her head and forces herself to look somewhere else. you do the same, feeling different without your normal hair. your eyes wander the shoreline, then the tree line. the sun’s down now and it’s getting dark. you have to do a double take as you spot a small sign further down the beach
“abby.” you say, clearing your throat to get rid of whatever was threatening to break through. your hand rose up to point towards it so she can find it, too. “we’re near a town, i think.”
“good.” she comments, walking around you and tossing the car keys into the sand. she’s thankful for the distraction, and her eyes avoid your face awkwardly. “not enough gas to get anywhere else.”
leaving the hair in the sand behind, you both start walking towards the sign.
the path leads back to a mobile home park. it’s something you haven’t seen yet. you peer through windows, itching to see what was inside the giant cars, and very eager to get inside as the dark of the night took over.
“hey.” abby lets out a short whistle along with the word, just to get your attention. it gives you whiplash how you turn quickly, thinking there was another seraphite nearby. abby gestures towards the mobile home she’s standing in front of, door already ajar. you take a breath as you untense, then you stride over to check out the inside.
“this one’s clear, and clean enough.” she tells you as you both move inside. she shuts the door behind her, finding something to block it and hold it shut for the night. you leave her to it and explore, seeing the couches and small kitchen so close together.
“people lived in this?” you ask, opening cabinets and looking in to the small bathroom and bedroom.
“yeah, i think so.” abby says, turning to watch you. you realize then that you keep forgetting that she wasn’t alive with the old world. she seems to have all the answers of it, knowing just what to do with the cars and buildings and roads.
“i think my parents would hate this.” you try to make some sort of conversation as you both migrate around the small home. the bedroom looks almost untouched and perfect for the rest that you desperately need right now.
"they're getting older, the island itself can be hard to move around on if your joints are wearing down. i can’t imagine they’d do well in here, let alone the home on the island" your pulling your jacket off, ready to set it off to the side and deal with the somewhat stale blanket. "but we... they'll have someone to look after them— if they aren't shunned because of me." you hoped not.
"for what it’s worth..." abby comments hesitantly. “i hope they made it through the ambush.”
"what?"
your hands still, jacket slowly inching towards the floor. abby’s sat on the edge of the old mattress, still looking up at you with these eyes- sad eyes. the air begins to still.
"what did you say?" you insist on her answer again. your heart pounds and your hands feel clammy. tunnel vision sets in. your jacket hits the floor. "ambush? what happened to my home?"
her eyes turn from sad to confused. “what?”
"what happened, wolf? what did you do?" your voice is louder now. you stand stiff.
"i didn't-" she pauses, losing her words as she tries to figure out how you don’t know what she’s talking about. even if you did, she can’t exactly say she wasn’t involved. she was part of it, she was there. even if she wasn't still a wolf at the time, she was still there, watching it all burn not even an hour before you had stumbled upon her back on the mainland. “you were there, weren’t you?”
“what happened?” your voice raises some more, but also cracks. and even though you ask the same question, you’ve already guessed what happened in your head. you left your parents to die, what a coward. they’d probably been killed by wolves, no one to protect them.
“i didn’t hurt anyone that night…” she begins to explain herself, defensive on her own character. it’s as if someone had attacked her character over something similar. you don’t want to hear it.
you leave your jacket on the floor, aiming to leave the mobile home altogether to avoid abby for the night. she stands quickly.
“don’t-!” abby moves to stand between you and the door. she holds her hands up to try and calm you down. “don’t leave, don’t. it’s not safe now.”
you turn from her and walk back towards the bed, wishing the room would expand so you could walk away further than the opposite corner. your stomach churns.
“i’m sorry. i thought the ambush was why you were in the city that night.” she quietly explains. “i didn’t realize you’d ran before it happened.”
the words don’t help. they just remind you of how you’d been a coward. they make you feel even more sick.
“let’s just sleep.” you spit out, face burning. you sit on the edge of the bed, not wanting to look at her.
“okay.” she agrees.
she moves around some more and you don’t bother to figure out what she’s doing. the room is getting darker as the night grows in the short amount of time she spends doing whatever. you stay hunched over at the edge of the bed stewing in anger until she lays down on the other side.
finally, you move to lay down, too. you keep your head tilted away, and you lay on your side facing away from her. you can feel her eyes, but you don’t turn around. you breathe through your aching chest and churning stomach, and you will away the heat in your skin from the anger and shame.
abby moves just a bit, making the mattress move as well. you can hear her take in a breath and you brace yourself for her words. her voice is quiet and apologetic.
“the wolves didn’t win…” she starts. “they didn’t stand a chance against the whole island, not with isaac leading them.”
she knows you’re listening. and you are- intently. you hate that she knows.
“i wasn’t on the island for long, but i know they were taking the kids and elderly inland, away from the fight. your parents would have been with them, right?” she doesn’t wait for an answer. “they could’ve made it. the fight was over that same night. they’d be fine by now.”
you tuck your face closer to the mattress and blanket, and abby takes that as an answer. she shifts again and the room grows quiet. her breathing evens out, and eventually you can’t keep your eyes open.
sorry for the delay i know yall r following for the fic!! life has been tough check on ur friends yall
everybody say thank you ray bc i wouldn't have done this part without her
tags: @hakandnsjoqmsn @mumuming @alloftheimagines
if i missed ur tag im sorry💖
"so that thing-"
"the bloater."
"-yeah, that. it's been like that since the beginning?"
abby's tried to explain it as you walk south on the broken and overgrown highways, but seeing those things as anything other than demons has been difficult for you. you'd only known them to carry sin, not some mushroom that abby says it is. in your mind, it made sense that the more sin they had, the worse off they were.
you both were a couple hours outside of seattle now. the storm had come back around, keeping seraphites and wolves busy. abby had assured you the wolves would be pre-occupied, so no search or patrols to fear. you'd assured her that no one would be coming to find you either. the island would be dealing with water redirection and keeping half-built homes stable through the wind.
normally, you'd be helping, becoming whatever support was needed for the lumber mill workers, or the farmers, even just to your parents. you hoped someone was able to step into your place and take care of them.
as you got further away from the city, the rain let up and the clouds weren't so dark. the sun peered out a few times, and it warmed you as your clothes and hair dried.
“no…” abby's just as confused as you are when she explains things, but for a different reason. your parents had been alive when the infection ravaged the world, what else did they not tell you about it all? "it's a fungus, it takes over the body... grows through the head until you end up like that bloater. it's not... sin, or whatever." she mumbles the end of her explanation, not trying to instigate but wanting to actually educate you.
you're inclined to disagree, to insist that it's all sin that ravaged the world. you don't. for the first time, you try to think of it like one of the viruses seraphites got after being in the rain for too long. you'd caught it once, having one of the worst cases on the island. but it never made you eat anyone or release spores.
all you did was quarantine in your house with your mom by your side until the fever broke. your mom had been helping you move from your bed to speak with the prophet, to thank her for life and for her blessings. you were so sure that your prayers were why you had been granted to heal- that you were free of sin because of her. now everything you did felt like sin.
"and the.." you don't have the words in your vocabulary to comment on it. "the thing that exploded, the one you threw at the demon, what was that?"
"infected." she corrects you. "that was a pipe bomb. a bunch of things go inside and then you light the fuse- that's the string on it- and then-" she mimes with her hands an explosion motion.
you don't quite get how 'a bunch of things' could cause an explosion like that, but it makes enough sense. after a few attacks from wolves, anything is believable.
"one of the soldiers back home, uh," you have to pause when your chest twinges at the word 'home', "she told me that we use molotovs, the bottles with the rags and fire."
"yeah, i know." abby says it flatly, almost wants to tell you about how many times she's nearly been hit by one thrown by a scar, but she doesn't. she thinks your smart enough to figure it out. you are. you feel guilty for a little while as you walk.
the road gets crowded, old cars piled bumper to bumper and crashed into each other. like everything else, it's all taken back by nature, grass sprouting through the spaces of broken road, bushes overgrowing the barriers on the sides. there's puddles in each pothole and crack. the noises of your and abby's footfall fills the silence as you keep on.
abby is marching along, determined and focused. she keeps her head forward to keep an eye on the path ahead. since reaching the main road, she’s kept her gun out and at her side. her eyes don’t even flutter down to check for things that could trip her, and she walks over them with ease. everything she does is solid and intentional.
as you think over all of these things— abby and her soldier-ness, being sick enough to eat people— you can’t help but have hundreds of more questions. you don't ask them.
"so..."
abby's got your attention again. she's got one hand holding onto her backpack strap as she walks. she adjusts it.
"you, uh, you saved my friend, another wolf."
oh. she's trying to make conversation. you take an extra step to catch up to her and walk by her side, shoes splashing into some leftover rain water.
"i did?" you barely remember what the man-wolf looked like when it had happened.
the island had it's morning fog, and the boat they used was small. it was only two or three wolves out searching for a gap in the seraphites routine. you'd seen them, just out of the corner of your eye as you made your way to the logging cabins. your path was usually calm and empty, no one else walking along with you.
it was chilling- seeing them. you'd felt so secure with your soldiers keeping watch. you never thought they'd get so close. but they did, and you saw them. you'd watched, stunned, as they scoped out the area and boated around. lucky for you, you'd been hidden by the brush and trees. they hadn't seen you until they were floating away quietly. only the man saw.
if you could just go back, shake yourself by the shoulders and sound the alarm... you'd do it in a heartbeat. it makes you feel more guilty than before, thinking about catching the wolf, abby's friend, to take care of him before any harm came to the island.
"yeah..." abby gets awkward. she doesn't know what to even say. there's nothing else to talk about. she's not looking at you as she talks, just keeps her eyes forward. she waves her free hand forward, as if offering something intangible. "thanks."
it gets quiet again. some bugs sound as they get close to you then fly away again. the temperature is heating up as the sun comes out from the clouds. footfall becomes less wet as the puddles dry out.
the warmer it gets, the more your stomach and chest buzz. the clarity comes quickly. seattle is behind you, and you won’t ever see the island again. as you walk, it feels oddly heavy and light at the same time. you’re free, and no one’s trying to kill you, but your actions weigh on you. would the prophet ever forgive you? would you turn into a demon from all of your sin? you even burned the figurine of her, she’s probably so mad. you’re sinful.
“we should stop soon to find food.” abby says, breaking the silence. “can you hunt?”
you blink and look over to her, and she’s looking right at you. she's almost got this look on her face like the one from when she first found you. it's pitying. it ruffles your feathers a little. you shake your head.
“i just helped at the lumber mill.” it feels so belittling, realizing how unprepared you are to survive. you knew exactly what to do with a rabbit or squirrel when it’s given to you dead thanks to helping your family with meals. but catching it? you’d be fucked. “sorry…”
abby doesn’t seem upset by it, but you can’t be sure. she shrugs a shoulder. “doesn’t matter, i can find something for us.”
and it surprises you when she actually does. you both veer off into the trees, keeping eyes open for any animals hanging around.
she’s got this heavy crossbow she unhooks from her bag, using it to get a few squirrels. she attempts a rabbit, but gives up when it’s clear she’d only be wasting time and effort. she hands the squirrel to you each time she gets one, and you hold them by the tails. if you could ingest raw meat, you’d have already torn into them.
by the time abby’s cleaned the arrows and got her stuff packed together again, you’re trying to make yourself useful. you’ve gathered some twigs and branches for a fire. abby stops you by holding a hand up. she shakes her head.
“not here. we’re too exposed.”
she’s right. you weren’t even thinking about that, how stupid of you. you drop the wood in your arms and nod, almost embarrassed. fuck, you need to snap out of it. it’s over, that life on the island, being a seraphite. you’re on your own- kind of.
as you follow her back to the road, your free hand makes its way to your sternum, fingers curled in instinct. your mind buffers, as if you’ve taken in a breath to speak but hesitated with words. you were going to pray, but what do you even say? would she even listen?
you awkwardly bring your hand back down and watch the dirt as you walk. you’re getting a headache from how pinched your face stays.
abby’s boots scuff against the road through the silence of you two. you swing the squirrels by their tails mindlessly. the clouds pass by slowly, only giving some cover to the hot sun. you’d grown so accustomed to the shade of the tall trees on the island. with another glance at abby, you see the sun spots covering her shoulder.
in comparison, you’re skin is sensitive, untouched that much by the sun. you’re face is becoming sensitive to the touch with a burn slowly setting in. the top of your head is warm, the signature braids of a seraphite coming loose in spots. you feel gross and dirty after the few days of being soaked through with dirty city water.
--
you find yourselves at a river. it's off the main road, relatively hidden, surrounded by a thick patch of forest. the squirrels are clipped to abby's bag, secured tightly.
in abby's hand, a small sliver of soap sits. it's worked down from it's days of use, and her hand twitches as she holds it out. you see that she'd really prefer not to share, but it's an olive branch, one of the many she's extended since you both met.
"take it" she insists, holding it closer. "you... kind of stink really bad."
her words quicken your pace and the soap is taken quickly.
you both get some distance from each other at the water's edge, playing a quiet game of pretending the other isn't there. clothes are stripped off, and you even dunk yours in the water next to you in hopes that the runoff soap will do something to the grime on them. your hair becomes the hardest part of the wash. the river's water is refreshing, not too cold. it feels clean. fish travel by here and there, no use worth catching.
it takes a minute to undo the intricate details of the braids, and you sit down to air dry next to the water as your fingers dig through it. for a moment, you pause to set your clothes up to dry, but again you're stuck digging through knots and ties. you undo all of the hard work your mother had done just a day prior.
the water laps up against your legs as they stay soaking in the water. it's quiet and calm. clouds roll by, covering you from the sun. a breeze passes by.
there are tears hitting the water before you know it. your fingers are stuck in the knots, hair tugging and stinging at the roots. you yank hard, a guttural sob sounding from the pain.
your mother would never braid your hair again. you'd never feel the comfort of her hands in your hair, smoothing over your shoulders when she was done.
abby's hand on yours makes you jump, much like you did the night before when she had a gun aimed at you. you sniffle and glance at her from the corner of your eye. you stay somewhat turned away as if it stops her from seeing the state you're in.
she's gotten dressed again, clothes somewhat wet as if she didn't take the time to air dry at all. she's got your shirt in her hand, offering it up to cover yourself while she sits so close.
you accidentally tug your hair again as you try to pull your hand down and away. abby looks you up and down and reaches her hand up to help untangle the section caught on your finger. you're finally able to grab the shirt and slip it on. her voice is quiet, awkward.
"i have this..."
a small comb sits in her hand. another olive branch.
your eyes flit to it, then back to the water. you're ashamed. you were raised better. why are you making such a big deal out of hair? your mother would click her tongue at you if she saw you now.
but, once again, abby surprises you. she doesn't leave the comb with you, or push it into your hand. she gently pulls at a lock of hair, freeing it from the three others. she works her way through the twists, combing out sections in a gentle pattern. she never tugs or yanks, and the comb barely registers in your mind. you can hear her inhale and then hesitate for a moment.
"did your mother or sister braid your hair?" she talks like she uses the comb. it's gentle and timid, afraid of pushing too hard or overstepping. afraid of tugging and causing pain.
"my mother." you answer quieter, whispering it to the water.
abby finishes with the comb, sitting on her knees. something's eating at her, but you don't notice. you hold yourself. when your hand comes up to wipe your face, you only feel your chest tighten as your fingers brush over the scars.
"i can't braid it like she did..." abby leans a little as she talks. she's trying to say it to your face, to land the blow as gently as possible. "but i can braid it if you want."
this is it. this is the new normal. it's over. you're not there. you're here.
you nod just once, eyes still forward into the gentle flowing river and how it runs over your calves and feet.
you're here, and you're getting your hair braided by a wolf. by abby.
she's quick and silent, pulling out the hair tie to her own braid to tie your braid off. she stands up and grabs the mostly dry rest of your clothing to hand to you. she turns away, back to her bag as you get dressed the rest of the way. as you're slipping the second shoe on, she's already found another worn out hair tie in her bag and she's fixed some of the hair that slipped from her braid.
when you finish and clear your throat to alert her. she gives you a once over and a nod before going to pick up her bag and sling it back over her shoulders.
"come on." she nods her head to the direction of the main road, hands holding onto her backpack straps. "we'll find somewhere to sleep and eat."
it sounds simple enough, so you follow her through the trees and back to the road.
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