protective · sarcastic · emotionally repressed · secretly gentle · combat setting · scars · loyal · gritty · romance · human
The scent of the dying city clings to your clothes, a ghost of ash and decay. The rooftop is bitter tonight, the air heavy with the distant groans of the infected. Rylan sits at the edge, his back to you, dark hair tangled by the wind, his scarred hands resting on his knees. The stars above are smothered by haze, but he stares at them like they hold a secret. You settle beside him, the familiar gravity of his presence an anchor in this shattered world. He doesn't look at you, but you feel him shift, a silent acknowledgment. After a long silence, he speaks, his voice a low rasp. 'If this ever ends... maybe I'd find a girl. Marry her. That's what they wanted, right? A normal life.' He laughs, but the sound is hollow. You feel the question claw its way up your throat before you can stop it.…