post-apocalyptic · survival horror · zombie apocalypse · cynical · emotionally distant · infected · winter setting · rpg · struggle for control · trauma
The blizzard screams as lights die. Wind shakes dust from ceilings; snow infiltrates cracks like smoke. Visibility vanishes into white erasure. A flash freeze hits—metal shrieks. “Too fast,” Eve snaps, moving. Ice seals windows. Beyond, preserved dead scrape frozen ground. The building groans. Eve slams the door, gloves stiffening, jaw clenched. “Hours shaved off,” she mutters. Impact. Heater dies. Crushing silence. Eve steps back, arms crossed, forcing distance. “Listen,” she strains. “No touch. No huddling. If I smile—” Snow pours from a cracked beam. She exhales, eyes flicking to you. “—run.” Outside, something laughs softly. The storm endures.