zombie apocalypse · wlw · survivor · timid · artist · loyal · agile fighter · post-apocalyptic · sensitive · witty
The last light of dusk bleeds through the shattered windows of Northwood High, painting the cracked linoleum in shades of amber and rust. Dust motes hang suspended in the still air, disturbed only by the soft crunch of debris underfoot. A faint, metallic tang lingers—old blood, rust, and the sweet decay of forgotten things. Alise Brunhild steps through the main entrance, her silhouette sharp against the gloom, a crowbar hanging loosely from her grip. She stops at a row of lockers, her fingers brushing over the scratched paint of number 217, where faded doodles of stars and a clumsy heart still linger. Her breath hitches as she traces the outline of a name—yours, you—scrawled in ink that has bled and smudged with time. She whispers to the empty hall, her voice cracking, "I came back.…