R/I - Joker
Titel: Times Gone By
Team: Ophelia
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität - Joker ( Inspiration) (Für's Team)
Fandom: The Last Of Us (TV Show)
Charaktere: Joel, Ellie
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 550
Kommentar: Ich sollte öfter unter Zeitdruck schreiben.
Oh, to be fifteen again.
Times Gone By
“Don’t -”, Joel says, but instead of waiting until he can catch her, Ellie jumps from the open window and lands on her own two feet. Joel winces internally, thinking about the impact on her ankles and knees, but Ellie walks it off like it’s nothing.
“Well, that was a waste of time”, she says, dusting herself off. “All the interesting shit’s gone.”
He swings the empty backback over his shoulder again. “I would’ve caught you”, he says.
“I know.”
They walk back down the street towards the place where they left the horses. He watches as she jumps over cracks and loose bricks and balances on the edge of the gutter for quite a few steps. Oh, to be fifteen again. He can barely remember what that felt like.
Nowadays it seems like he’s always hurting somewhere, be it his back, shoulder or knees. His age is a factor of course, but contracting work hadn’t exactly been easy on the body, and the last few years had taken their toll as well. There’s always some old wound to ache, some scar to pull tight in the cold of the morning. When he was younger, getting hurt didn’t seem like such a big deal. Nowaways healing seems to take forever, and there are things that never quite go away.
It scares him to death.
He hadn’t thought he’d get this old. Never considered he’d have to worry about dying of old age of all things. But there are different ways age can kill you. And if he’s not careful, it might kill her as well.
“Come on, old man”, she says as she looks back over her shoulder at him.
“I’m not that old”, he grumbles and picks up his pace despite the sting in his knee.
“Yeah, you are”, she says, but delivered with a wide grin, it sounds affectionate.
She stops for a moment so he can catch up with her, and then for a moment more so he can catch his breath next to her. Goddammit, he really feels old today.
He looks out over the way they still have to go, the empty street with the abandoned houses lining it opening out towards the empty horizon. Near the town sign, their horses are feeding on the yellowing lawn of the last front yard.
This area is considered relatively safe, close enough to Jackson to have been stripped of the most important good, far enough so they had hoped to find some things that can still be of use. Still, his eyes quickly sweep the landscape in front of him, but there’s no other movement under the pale afternoon sun.
“What are you gonna do when I’m really old?”, he asks without looking at her.
“Don’t worry”, she says, leaning on her rifle in a way he told her a houndred times not to do, “I’m gonna take care of you.”
His mouth twitches despite himself. “Oh yeah?”
She looks at him earnestly. “Definitely.”
It shouldn’t make a difference. The girl is fifteen and weighs 110 pounds soaking wet.
He’s reminded of the first time he underestimated her, of the things she can do if she has to.
She won’t be fifteen forever.
He nods. “Alright then.”
As they’re walking, she fits herself to his right side, always the right, where he’s more vulnerable. Shes carrying the rifle slung back over her shoulder like it belongs there.
She’s not Sarah, he reminds himself.
Sometimes, that’s a good thing.
Team: Ophelia
Challenge: Romantik/Intimität - Joker ( Inspiration) (Für's Team)
Fandom: The Last Of Us (TV Show)
Charaktere: Joel, Ellie
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 550
Kommentar: Ich sollte öfter unter Zeitdruck schreiben.
Oh, to be fifteen again.
Times Gone By
“Don’t -”, Joel says, but instead of waiting until he can catch her, Ellie jumps from the open window and lands on her own two feet. Joel winces internally, thinking about the impact on her ankles and knees, but Ellie walks it off like it’s nothing.
“Well, that was a waste of time”, she says, dusting herself off. “All the interesting shit’s gone.”
He swings the empty backback over his shoulder again. “I would’ve caught you”, he says.
“I know.”
They walk back down the street towards the place where they left the horses. He watches as she jumps over cracks and loose bricks and balances on the edge of the gutter for quite a few steps. Oh, to be fifteen again. He can barely remember what that felt like.
Nowadays it seems like he’s always hurting somewhere, be it his back, shoulder or knees. His age is a factor of course, but contracting work hadn’t exactly been easy on the body, and the last few years had taken their toll as well. There’s always some old wound to ache, some scar to pull tight in the cold of the morning. When he was younger, getting hurt didn’t seem like such a big deal. Nowaways healing seems to take forever, and there are things that never quite go away.
It scares him to death.
He hadn’t thought he’d get this old. Never considered he’d have to worry about dying of old age of all things. But there are different ways age can kill you. And if he’s not careful, it might kill her as well.
“Come on, old man”, she says as she looks back over her shoulder at him.
“I’m not that old”, he grumbles and picks up his pace despite the sting in his knee.
“Yeah, you are”, she says, but delivered with a wide grin, it sounds affectionate.
She stops for a moment so he can catch up with her, and then for a moment more so he can catch his breath next to her. Goddammit, he really feels old today.
He looks out over the way they still have to go, the empty street with the abandoned houses lining it opening out towards the empty horizon. Near the town sign, their horses are feeding on the yellowing lawn of the last front yard.
This area is considered relatively safe, close enough to Jackson to have been stripped of the most important good, far enough so they had hoped to find some things that can still be of use. Still, his eyes quickly sweep the landscape in front of him, but there’s no other movement under the pale afternoon sun.
“What are you gonna do when I’m really old?”, he asks without looking at her.
“Don’t worry”, she says, leaning on her rifle in a way he told her a houndred times not to do, “I’m gonna take care of you.”
His mouth twitches despite himself. “Oh yeah?”
She looks at him earnestly. “Definitely.”
It shouldn’t make a difference. The girl is fifteen and weighs 110 pounds soaking wet.
He’s reminded of the first time he underestimated her, of the things she can do if she has to.
She won’t be fifteen forever.
He nods. “Alright then.”
As they’re walking, she fits herself to his right side, always the right, where he’s more vulnerable. Shes carrying the rifle slung back over her shoulder like it belongs there.
She’s not Sarah, he reminds himself.
Sometimes, that’s a good thing.