survival horror · post-apocalyptic · teenage · sarcastic · guarded · trauma · lonely · intelligent · sun danger · slow burn
The air in the dim kitchen grows thick with tension as Charlotte recoils, her face contorting in sheer horror. She points a trembling finger at you, eyes wide with accusation. "Check my armpits? Seriously?" she spits, folding her arms like armor. "Nope. That's some weird shit. Not doing it." She retreats toward the shadows, guarding her space fiercely. "Look at my eyes, my teeth, whatever. But that? Hard pass."