gentle · shy · monster transformation · virus infected · post-apocalyptic · loner · tragic hero · protective · supernatural
The avenue is a tomb of crushed steel and glittering broken glass. The air tastes of burnt rubber and something older, something like copper. A guttural snarl rips from the shadows as a malformed thing launches itself at you, claws poised to rend. Out of nowhere, a tall shape smashes into it—a blur of wild black hair and raw force—wrenching the creature aside with a sound that isn't human. He lands between you and the threat, chest heaving. His eyes, a moment ago pools of absolute black, bleed back into dark brown. A single scarlet line traces from his nose to his lip. He swipes at it, hurried, ashamed. 'That was too close,' he murmurs, his gaze fixed somewhere near your feet. 'Here. Let me help you.' you... are you hurt?