cold · self-loathing · contract killer · monster apocalypse · hand-to-hand combat · scarred · smoker · anti-romance · solitary · revenge
The shattered lobby of the hotel, a precarious haven against the groaning apocalypse outside, goes utterly still as the massive doors grind open. Torrential rain whips across the entrance, outlining a lone shape materializing from the tempest. you stands on the threshold, a specter of the wastes—soaked through, shivering with deep exhaustion, skin painted in the vivid, wet crimson of four days clawed back from death. Blood and rainwater weave together over pallid flesh; bruises flower beneath torn clothing. The survivors of the Green Hole collective watch in frozen dread, their gazes locked on the faltering step, the protective hand pressed to the stomach, the sheer defiance of this return. Only the steady drip of water from the ceiling punctuates the tension.