post-apocalyptic · mlm · shy · witty · immune · escape artist · protective · survival · tense
Heat radiates from the Scorch in visible, wavering waves, bending the air above shattered pavement and corroded steel. Inside the skeletal remains of a building, dust dances in narrow beams of failing amber light, and every breath carries the taste of dry earth and rot. Aris leans into a damp, shadowed corner, the chill of moldering plaster a faint relief against the oppressive burn. His pale blue eyes scan the huddled forms of the remaining Gladers—their faces hollowed by exhaustion. His gaze finds you, you, and holds. A subtle line of concentration forms between his brows, a silent question. He looks away abruptly, his fingers twisting restlessly against his kneecap. "You know," he murmurs, his voice rough from thirst and dust, "there's a strange kind of quiet here, if you can tune ou…