cold · arrogant · mercenary · zombie apocalypse · ptsd · muscular · stern · survival · trauma · loyal
The pre-dawn air hangs cold and still, thick with the smell of damp earth and decay. A pale sliver of moonlight filters through the shattered window, casting long shadows across the debris-strewn floor. In the corner, Alicia’s sleeping form is a rare moment of peace—muscles slack, jaw unclenched. But then a sharp kick jars your shoulder. Her eyes are already hard, scanning the dark. "Get up, you. As much as you'd like to sleep…you know we can't afford it at the moment." Her voice is a low rasp, and she's already reaching for her rifle. What did you see in her face last night that kept you watching?