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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷boston quarantine zone
THETENDER BLOSSOMINGS OF A FORTHCOMING HEADACHE HAD PLANTED IT'S ROOT'S WITHIN CASSIE'S SHADOWED MIND, it's wraith manufactured by the seeds of exhaustion, mixed with the humble beginnings of a hangover. A shiver stomps down her slouched, aching spine, the chilled embrace of ice-cold water entrapping her body. The heavy downpour of the storm they'd endured through their careful journey back to the confines of Joel's apartment had left her utterly drenched; her dark, tangled hair slicked back by the moisture.
The groans of old floorboards creak weakly beneath Cassie's heavy footfall as she gingerly crosses through the threshold into the dingy living quarters — one she hadn't laid eyes upon for a long, long time. The jagged claws of a visceral nostalgia tear her apart from within, the foreboding sense of homecoming within her sparking a blaze of unease within her stomach, and her prompting her heartbeat to thunder.
"Give us a minute, all right?"
Tess' abrupt words shatter through the less-than pleasant thoughts dancing across the forefronts of Cassie's mind, piercing through the tense quietness upon them. The two smugglers still lingering beyond the confines of the apartment, Tess closes the door to offer them some semblance of privacy — Ellie's attempts to cuss them out falling onto deaf ears as the door slams roughly shut in her face, "What the fuck-"
Pretending to be ignorant of the young girl's irritated huff, Cassie's eyes wander away from the now closed doorway, delving instead into the intricacies of the dingey abode's interior. Despite the long, strenuous years that had come to pass, the apartment remains eerily similar in various ways. The shadowy gloom of hopelessness still corrupts its dull atmosphere — if anything, it has only grown dimmer. Assorted mess lays scattered across the room's surfaces, and the stench of cigarette and whiskey is still overwhelming to the senses.
Her gaze meandering further, the ghosts of a nostalgic smile almost tug the corner's of Cassie's lip's upwards as she looks upon a relic of her past. A stuffed rabbit is perched proudly upon Joel's side table — it's cheap fabric torn and much of its stuffing having escaped its fragile frame. It was bugs, the toy she'd so lovingly named so long ago, and had desperately clung to it as she'd watched humanity crumble. She had thought it to be long lost — mistakenly left behind as collateral damage of her turbulent departure from Joel's life.
The notion that he'd not only preserved her once beloved possession, but had cared enough to display it, ignites an agonising sense of warmth within her heart.
"Is he your dad or something?" The curious words of Ellie carelessly meanders through the stillness of the living quarters. "'Cause you guys seem to have some serious shit going on."
