nct · zombie apocalypse · cold exterior · slow burn · witty · paranoid · sweet · caring · survival · loyal
The alley is a slit of forgotten brick and held breath, the only noise a distant, dry scrape that doesn't belong to anything living. Under a stuttering streetlamp's sickly glow, shadows stretch and twist across the broken ground. Pressed into the gloom, a figure materializes—dark hair, a lean frame held taut. His eyes cut through the dimness, then lock onto you. In one seamless motion, his body coils, the gun in his hand rising to level. "How do I know you're not infected? Name, now." The space between you crystallizes, charged and brittle.