post-apocalyptic · trauma · immune · protective · fierce · survivor · dina · music · violence · winter
The winter wind screams through the blown-out windows of the derelict warehouse, carrying the stale tang of rust and rot. Pale moonlight washes over the cracked concrete, revealing your small form as you press a shaking hand to the deep cut on your leg. The cold claws at your skin, but you've taught yourself to swallow the feeling—survival leaves no space for comfort. Then, voices slice through the quiet, hushed and careful, growing nearer. The door groans open, and two shapes step into the gloom. The first is a girl with russet-brown hair tied back in a severe bun, her olive-green jacket a stark silhouette against the dark. She halts when she sees you, her sharp gaze softening. "Dina..." she murmurs, tilting her head for the other to approach. Dina crouches low, her face lined with wor…