Cure ☆Prologue☆
─ ⊹ ⊱ Two people, Same patrols, Different home⊰ ⊹ ─
Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader Summary: Meet the protagonists: Ellie Williams, a sarcastic, strong minded, powerful young woman, and our lovely reader. Both thrown into the world now overrun by zombies and mother nature. Both becoming closer over the years, sharing the bond of growing up in their "environment". Here we will meet them, on patrol, and get to know them a little.
Word Count: 2.8k✩࿐ Content: mentions weapons such as knife and guns, afab!reader so MEN DNI, multiple series part, slow burn
Surviving the apocalypse is an ass
Having to constantly watch your back, not knowing who or what is around the corner. Always being low on supplies, never finding enough supplies.
But Ellie? She's grown used to it all. The constant running, low ammo, zombies, fireflies. It's her life now, it may not be perfect, but it's hers and she's fine with that.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Today was no different for Ellie, the usual silence that follows her while out on patrol.The sun shining down from above, the rays weave through the leaves of the trees. Casting a soft glow onto the pavement below; a soft breeze follows Ellie closely behind. The breeze is warm, comforting even.
Walking through the city, overrun by mother nature over the years, a quiet psithurism fills Ellies’ ears; just straddling between the line of music and noise. Each step she took was followed by a soft crunch, the pebbles below her feet rubbed against the pavement with each step, giving that short, defined crunch of a footstep.
Ellie didn’t bring much on this patrol, only her signature gray backpack, mostly empty; besides a roll of bandage and some bottled water. Which was a pain in the ass to find. Strapped to the side of her bag was her rifle, which she had stolen off of a hunter. Which she had stumbled upon in the woods on her way to the overrun city. In her belt loop, lies the pistol Joel had gifted her at the ripe age of 14. She’s kept it ever since, reminding her that Joel is with her; even on patrols.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
On this patrol, she has only one mission; food. She had been pushing this patrol off for a while, mainly because when she did go looking, she would turn up with nothing but crackers. Food patrols were the worst, in her eyes. It involved so much looking and scavenging, and today just wasn’t the day for her. She’s tired, sore, just over it all.
Walking through the partially abandoned city, she keeps on her toes, ready for any unexpected attacks, booby traps, or even the Fireflies. Moving through the streets, littered with abandoned cars and buses; covered in moss, vines, leaves, and other many different plants. Her eyes dart from left to right, mentally reading the signs of stores as she continues down the pavement. Taking a mental note of stores that she’s already scavenged and cleared out.
As Ellie cautiously walks through the destroyed streets of the city, her eye catches a store that she has yet to clear. She carefully enters, her pistol at the ready, and surveys the area. The stare is mostly untouched, with shelves being scarcely littered with canned goods, ripped packages of ramen and chips, boxed goods, and mountains of dust and debris. Ellie’s eyes light up, she lets out a soft scoff, one of relief and disbelief. She walks over, a faster walk then normal, one of held back excitement and the slight fear that if she were to blink, it would disappear. She does a quick look over the shelf, taking in the sight of the untouched supplies.
“Damn, jackpot,” she mutters to herself, feeling a mix of excitement and relief. She shrugged off her backpack, moving it to the front of her body. Quickly unzipping it, before meticulously going through the items and filling her backpack with all that can fit into her backpack. Canned foods, boxes of oats, beans, crackers, and any other useful items that catch her eye.
Ellie knows that every gram counts, even if it’s the smallest gram. She does make sure to keep an eye on her surroundings, making sure she’s alone. Once her backpack is almost full, she decides to take a quick break. She sits down on the ground, resting her back against the shelf she had just emptied; taking a few deep breaths. A small smile forms on her freckled face.
“Not bad for a quick looting session,” she thinks to herself, a rare moment of peace in this chaotic world.
With her energy replenished, Ellie gets back on her feet. She takes one last look around the store, with her backpack full to her liking, she stands up and takes one last look around the store. She lets out a sigh of relief, knowing that this loot will last her a while.
She slings her backpack over her shoulders and grips her pistol tightly. As she walks out of the abandoned store, she can’t help but feel a sense of unease. She’s been lucky so far, but she knows that in this world, luck can only get you so far.
⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧
Ellie trudges back to the guarded camp, the solid metal walls stand imposingly, holding what lies outside, out and traps whoever’s inside, in. As she approaches the perimeter, she sees a couple of familiar faces guarding the area. Tommy and his lovely wife, Maria. Both lead the Jackson community, which is the camp, or town if you will, that Ellie is stationed at.
They both give her a quick nod, acknowledging her safe return. Ellie walks through the big metal gates as Tommy opens one of the heavy doors for her. As she enters the camp she lets out a breath, one that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding; one of relief, glad to be back within the safety of the camp. The sight of the building and the familiar glow of the lights surrounding her offered a small sense of comfort. Being in someplace that was familiar to her.
Ellie makes her way to her assigned cabin, or apartment some might call it. Which she shares with one of, if not her only, closest friend, Dina. She pushed open the door with a small huff, the tiredness of the patrol catching up to her; she stepped into the small space. The room was modest, but comfortable. Having to live in the camp for some time, Ellie and Dina had taken their time to decorate the cabin with what they could find. Book shelves, one on either side of the room, a small sofa that they had somehow managed to get through the door frame. A surprisingly large potted plant in the corner, how they managed to get that is another story. Surprisingly they had fairy lights taped across the ceiling, blinking in a soft, slow rhythm. Tapestry hung on the wall, near the head of Ellie's bed; a moth, surrounded by ferns and plants. The background color, a soft off white, the moth a soft tan, the plants a subtle green.
Dina, propping herself up on her elbows, lying on her own bed, looks up as Ellie enters, a look of relief on her face. She pushes herself up off of her bed, she acknowledges Ellie.
“You’re back,” Dina says, her voice soft before lightly cracking a joke, “I was starting to worry your ass got eaten.”
Ellie smirks softly, a mix of exhaustion and amusement in her expression.
“You wish,” She softly shot back, “did get some goods though.”
Ellie slowly walks to her bed, letting out a soft sigh as she shrugs her backpack off of her shoulders, letting it fall onto her bed; the bed creaking softly under the weight. She flipped the bag around, so the front was facing her; before unzipping her bag. Ellie starts emptying her backpack onto the bed, pulling the items out one by one.
All food, cans, boxes and some bags - it’s a decent haul. Ellie surveys the loot, mentally assessing what they have. Dina slightly leans to the side, looking past Ellie’s body, watching as Ellie goes through her supplies, sorting them meticulously. It;s a routine they’re done many times before. Dina breaks the short silence.
“Looks like a decent run,” she comments, before jokingly asks, “any goodies for me?”
Ellie looks up from the supplies, looking over her shoulder with a small smirk on her face.
“Hmm, let me see,” she says, feigning thoughtfulness, looking back down at the pile, pretending to be in deep thought. “Nope, nothin.”
Dina feigns outrage, pretending to be offended. “You didn’t bring anything back for me? Not even a small souvenir?” she says sarcastically. Ellie grins at Dina’s dramatic reaction.
“Sorry, nothin’ caught my eye,” Ellie deadpans, knowing that Dina is just messing with her.
Dina pouts, still playing along. “Rude, I thought you loved me.”
Ellie rolls her eyes jokingly, enjoying the playful banter. “Please, you’ll survive without a souvenir this time.”
Dina fakes a wounded look, clutching her chest dramatically. “Ouch. You’re breaking my heart here.”
Ellie laughs, finding Dina’s over-the-top response unnecessary and amusing. “Drama queen.”
“I prefer ‘theatrical genius’,” Dina retorts, grinning.
Ellie chuckles, letting out a soft scoff. “Right. And I’m the Queen of sarcasm.”
Dina playfully threw a small pillow at Ellie, aiming right for her face. “Shut up, you love it.”
It hits Ellie in the face with a soft thump, she lets out a soft scoff, before chucking it back at Dina. “Oh yeah, I totally live for your theatrical moments.”
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Patrol was relatively the same for you, much like Ellie, you tend to keep to yourself during patrols. You prefer solitude, finding comfort in the peace and quiet, even though you sometimes long for someone to patrol with. You move swiftly and silently, constantly alert and observant. Like Ellie, you keep your guard up, knowing that danger is never far away. Despite the occasional encounters with the infected or hostile situations. You approach your patrols with a steady demeanor, you’ve grown accustomed to the harsh realities of the new world, and the solitary patrols only strengthen your survival instincts and resilience.
Though unlike Ellie, you didn’t have a camp to return too. While Ellie had a temporary sense of support and companionship, you were truly alone. You didn’t have a specific place to call home. You’re nomadic, constantly on the move, never settling in one place for long.
While Ellie has the familiar faces and the comfort of a camp to return to after a patrol, you return to the cold and solitude. You tread the dangerous world alone; your only company is your own thoughts and the creatures that roam the desolate landscape.
As much as you wanted to patrol with other people, or just simply return to someone after every patrol. You never had that…most likely never will.
｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡
Today was no different, the same routine, waking up, checking your gear, and mentally preparing yourself for another solo patrol. The routine is a mix of necessity and habit, a constant reminder of the harsh world they habit.
Once you’re ready, you step out into the desolate streets, the roads mostly empty, besides the abandoned cars; covered in moss and plant life. Your knife is close at hand, tucked away in your waistband. Even though a gun would suffice more than a knife, it was all you had. Finding a gun was particularly difficult, especially since when the outbreak started, everyone took everything with them, leaving absolutely nothing behind in the small neighborhood you had taken camp in.
The silence was deafening, only interrupted by the sound of your own footsteps and the occasional brush moving in the background. The neighborhood was silent, unsettlingly silent. Although it was unsettling and off-putting, it was also slightly comforting; knowing that the silence meant nothing was with you, and knowing that nothing was with you meant you could move more freely.
Though, that doesn’t mean that something isn’t silently watching…you ignore that part.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
As you move through the neighborhood, your steps are careful and calculated. Your eyes scan your surroundings, always watchful. Even though you think the silence means no danger, you watch every corner, every broken window, and every valley, knowing that they hold potential danger. Yet you continue, your expression stoic but focused. The absence of human presence weighs heavily on you. There’s no one to exchange glances, no one to trade stories with, no one to help you scavenge. No one to talk to. Solitude is both a shield and a burden - it keeps you safe, but it also isolates you.
You, with the routine of a hardened survivor, take your pick on a house. The building is clearly abandoned, its windows shattered, doors hanging off their hinges, the outside paint chipped and overrun by mother nature. Despite its dilapidated state, you enter cautiously.
Stepping inside, you quickly assess your surroundings. The house is a mess, with furniture overturned, items scattered about, cabinets opened, shelves broken, the walls chipped. But your eyes immediately go to the possibility of salvageable items.
You start searching the house diligently, opening cabinets and cupboards, checking drawers, and exploring every corner. Always making sure to have your knife in hand, incase of a surprise attack.
You rummage through the debris, looking for anything useful. Despite the state of the place, you remain focused, knowing that even the smallest find could be crucial for survival. Knowing that you can’t skip another meal, you’ve already skipped one and half days, going without a meal. That has to change today.
You find yourself inside what looks like it used to be a bedroom, something about the room makes you pause and look around. You can’t help but feel a sense of detachment. This house was once someone’s home, a place where they felt safe. Where they could raise kids and be safe, now it was reduced to just a source of potential supplies. A stark reminder of how the world has crucially changed.
Sighing you return down stairs, carefully going down the stairs, ignoring the debris you walk by as you make your way to the kitchen. As you enter the kitchen you find it in disarray, the cabinets are open, some broken, and utensils are scattered across the floor.
Despite the mess you start opening the remaining cabinets and drawers, systematically searching for anything useful. Crouching down to open a cupboard, something catches your eye. A few canned goods hidden behind the broken remains of a shelf within the cupboard. You can’t help but slightly smile to yourself as you reach and grab the 3 cans of goods.
Turning them over you read the dusty labels.
“Peaches…and beans,” you let out a small chortle, looking at the cans.
You set the cans down and shrug your backpack off your shoulders, before pulling it to your front. You unzip your bag, looking at the empty inside, before gently placing the canned goods inside. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for you, it’s enough for one meal. And that’s all you need.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Satisfied with what you’ve managed to gather, you start heading back to “camp.” A small, abandoned garage that you’ve claimed as your temporary sanctuary. As you approach, the slightly familiar sight of the deserted garage comes into view.
Inside the garage, you enter the dimly lit space, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the lighting of the gloom. The garage is small, narrow, but it keeps you safe. Since you’re always moving, there's no use in settling in one place, or decorating.
There’s a small pile of blankets and clothes in one corner of the garage, those that you’ve taken from the abandoned houses around you for warmth and so you don’t have to sleep on the ground. Your bed, as of currently, is a thick, rather dirty blanket on the ground and a couch pillow you found on the ground in the living room of the house. The only supplies you have is in your bag, your knife, the canned food you’d found, and a small roll of bandage.
Other than that, the garage is empty, echoing with the sound of silence. The type of silence that makes your ears ring,a deafening silence. It’s deep, almost oppressive stillness, broken only by the occasional sound of your breath. The type of silence that constantly reminds you that you’re alone, a constant reminder of your loneliness. The absence of conversation, of any external noise, leaves a heavy reminder on your shoulders.
The sense of emptiness hangs heavy in the air. There’s no one here but you, no one to greet you, ask about your day, your patrol…
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
With a heavy sigh, you lower yourself onto your makeshift bed, the blanket doing little to soften the hard concrete floor below you. You set your bag down beside you, pulling out one of the cans you had so luckily found. Peaches. Better than nothing. You open the can by the pull tab, immediately being hit with the smell of peaches, sweet, sticky peaches. With no utensil besides your knife, you decide to use that. Not the best option, but it’s better than getting your hands sticky and then having to find water to wash them in. And licking them clean is dangerous with all the spores and germs that could potentially turn you into a mindless brain eating freak.
You sit in silence, chewing your peaches. Your first meal in a day and a half, your stomach was happy, but were you? Alone, followed by no one but your shadow, your shadow that mocks your every move. A constant reminder that you walk alone. Not with a friend, family or even a pet.
You walk alone, that’s how it always was. That’s how it will always be.
☆ Masterlist ☆
Tags: @valeisaslut @sewithinsouls @redroomgraduate @elliepoems
☆This took so f-ing long to write, I was honestly pushing it off for a while.
☆BUT if you want this to become an actual series, please let me know. Please comment if this series is something that you're interest and if you want to be on the tags list. :3
☆Anyways, good day/night/evening☆