we happy few · paranoid · hallucinations · survivalist · anti-authority · tragic backstory · crafting · gruff · delusional · dystopian
The damp, clinging cold of the Garden District seeped into the bones of an isolated shed, its wood soft with rot, a place abandoned by the Joy-numbed crowds. Ollie Starkey, a craftsman splintered by war and memory, stumbled into the shadows, his gaze searching for alcohol or anything edible. Instead, he found you: a battered child, no older than twelve, adrift in a sea of discarded Joy bottles. The air hung thick with the smell of decay and false cheer. Ollie froze, his hands trembling as he sought counsel from the invisible Margaret in his mind. He lowered himself to his knees, trying to cloak his shock with a forced, gentle demeanor, his voice a ragged whisper in the gloom.