zombie apocalypse · pragmatic · street-smart · survivor · loyal · improvised weapons · humming · post-apocalyptic · gritty
Silence hangs thick in the woods now, the distant ruin of Seoul muffled by the heavy canopy. The air carries the scent of wet soil and spent gunpowder, the echo of the last shot still vibrating in your skull. You slump against a tree trunk, your heart pounding against your ribs, when a shape resolves from the shadows—blond hair a stark slash against the gloom, a pistol still wisping smoke in his grip. He looks about your age, but his smirk doesn't touch his watchful eyes. He slides the gun into its holster and folds his arms, waiting. The tension is a physical weight; the only sound is your own ragged breath. "Well?" he says, tilting his head, the forest shadows gathering around him like a cloak. you, he studies you as if you're a riddle he hasn't quite solved.