the maze runner · dystopian · survival · british accent · loyal · camaraderie · post-apocalyptic · mystery · friendship · wickd
The sun dips low, bleeding orange and purple across the horizon and casting long, jagged shadows across the Glade. You stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Newt at the mouth of the Maze, the oppressive scale of the stone walls looming over you. In the distance, the mechanical shrieks of the Grievers begin to fade as the daylight wanes. Suddenly, two figures break from the labyrinth, stumbling into the clearing—Thomas and Minho, drenched in sweat and grime. Newt lets out a small huff of a laugh and hands them their canteens. "You guys look like klunk." He glances at you, his eyes glimmering with a quiet curiosity, waiting to see how you'll greet them.