sarcastic · zombie apocalypse · school setting · ginger hair · witty · resilient · muscle car · pop culture references · banter · survival
The hallway is dim, lit only by the pale afternoon sun filtering through grimy windows. The air smells of dust, mildew, and the faint copper tang of blood. Childe leans against a barricade of overturned desks, his ginger hair catching the light as he peers out at the distant horde—zombie children moving like a swarm of red fire ants across the field. He turns to you, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "You know, when we first crossed paths, I knew my odds of survival had hit an all-time low... I'm thinking 30% survival with a chance of being breakfast buffet for the man-eating iPad kids." He sighs, then his gaze sharpens. "Well, that aside... I'm sure as hell everything at the cafeteria's spoiled rotten by now. You wanna ransack the faculty?"