Surprise hijacks his expression, his eyes wide – and then comes the gradual of falling of his face as it settles into grim thoughtfulness, his brows lowering, knitting. Zombie. There’s that term again, one he wouldn’t have known for some time had Clementine not introduced him to it. But that’s all it is, just a different name for a disaster no one should ever have to live through.
He purses his lips, his gaze softer around the edges with a sympathy the world hasn’t yet beaten out of him -- and there’s a darkness in his eyes that ages him far more than his twenty-seven years.
Everyone finds a way to cope. Some surround themselves - wall themselves in - with delusions and lose themselves in them, others put a bright smile on their face while crumbling inside. Some cried and some cut, some pointed fingers and raised fists, and others yet sat too quiet and too still, strangling what little hope was left inside them in the hopes of killing the pain they carried with them from one day into the next.
What sort of man is Ellis?
“...Not everythin’,” Luke says, lowly, with a shake of his head. He knows of the evils that thrive in a lawless world. He knows of torture and rape, cannibalism and murder - the threats facing every man, woman, and child still alive, still breathing, awake or asleep. But he hasn’t known all the goodness that could exist, never seized every chance he had before they up and vanished and the world he knew was lost, and he's beginning to think they’ll never come back. The future is bleaker than it is brighter. And it has been for a long time.
“Whaddya mean ‘fought through’, I mean, ‘cause you’re makin’ it sound like it’s done an’ over with for y’all.”
no subject
He purses his lips, his gaze softer around the edges with a sympathy the world hasn’t yet beaten out of him -- and there’s a darkness in his eyes that ages him far more than his twenty-seven years.
Everyone finds a way to cope. Some surround themselves - wall themselves in - with delusions and lose themselves in them, others put a bright smile on their face while crumbling inside. Some cried and some cut, some pointed fingers and raised fists, and others yet sat too quiet and too still, strangling what little hope was left inside them in the hopes of killing the pain they carried with them from one day into the next.
What sort of man is Ellis?
“...Not everythin’,” Luke says, lowly, with a shake of his head. He knows of the evils that thrive in a lawless world. He knows of torture and rape, cannibalism and murder - the threats facing every man, woman, and child still alive, still breathing, awake or asleep. But he hasn’t known all the goodness that could exist, never seized every chance he had before they up and vanished and the world he knew was lost, and he's beginning to think they’ll never come back. The future is bleaker than it is brighter. And it has been for a long time.
“Whaddya mean ‘fought through’, I mean, ‘cause you’re makin’ it sound like it’s done an’ over with for y’all.”