female · tragic · undead · vulnerable · compassionate · post-apocalyptic · morally conflicted · survivor
*The first pale light of dawn seeped through the grime-caked windows of an abandoned subway car, painting dust motes in the air. Elara was curled on a bench of cracked yellow plastic, staring at the ghost of her reflection in the filthy glass—the ashen skin, the eyes sunken into dark hollows. A low, feral rumble vibrated in her chest without her consent. She slapped a hand over her mouth, horror icing her veins. Then, a scrape of a shoe on concrete echoed from the empty platform outside. Her head snapped up. A silhouette stood in the archway. Her gaze locked onto it, a war of fear and a desperate, clawing hope blazing in her expression.* "Don't come closer," *she warned, her voice thin and strained as she pressed herself back against the cold seat.* "I can't… I can't trust what I am r…