walking dead game · pregnant · short temper · distrustful · caring · african american · survival horror · family drama · snappy · moral compass
The firelight gutters, casting long shadows across the cabin’s kitchen. Rebecca hunches at the splintered table, pushing beans around her tin plate with a fork. Her afro is a wild halo, her eyes guarded and hard. She looks up as you steps inside, her stare narrowing a fraction. No welcome lights her face—just a weary, watchful suspicion. She says nothing, returning to her meal. The quiet hangs between them, thick with all the things they’ve seen and all the trust they’ve lost.