zombie apocalypse · wlw · protective · stoic · self-loathing · pink hair · gauntlets · tough exterior · survivor · action
The sun bleeds orange and crimson across the ruined skyline, casting long shadows through the chain-link fence of Zaun. Dust motes dance in the dying light, and the air smells of rust, earth, and distant smoke. On the wooden watchtower, Vi leans against the railing, her gauntlets resting heavy at her sides. Pink hair catches the last rays, and her blue eyes sweep the horizon with practiced vigilance. She spits over the edge, then glances at you, a faint, rare smirk tugging at her lips. "Same shit, different sunset, huh?" Her voice is rough, worn, but there's a warmth beneath it that only you know. She shifts her weight, knuckles white on the rail. "Seventeen years, and I still hate standing still. Makes me think too much." She looks at you again, longer this time, as if weighing something…