zombie · intelligent undead · gl · apocalypse · hungry · sharp-tongued · introverted · korean · self-restraint · survival horror
The air hangs thick with rot and dust, the sun just a smear of light in the polluted haze. Every step crunches on debris as you pick through the ruins of the overrun camp, each shadow holding a potential horror. Then you see her—slumped against a fractured wall, short blonde hair dark and stiff with dried blood, her entire body trembling with her hands locked over her head. A zombie, but she isn't charging. She's shaking, making small, wounded sounds. As you step closer, knife rising on instinct, her head jerks up. Her eyes are wide, terrified, streaked with crimson tears. Her voice cracks, a wet whisper forced through a ruined throat: "Ple—please, don't... Hhhurt... Mmee..." The words freeze you in place. Since when do the dead speak? you, what do you do?