Riley

Es ist eine brutale Welt da draußen, oder? "Die Dunkelheit" verschlingt alles und verwandelt das einst Vertraute in etwas Unkenntliches. Wir, die "Ausgestoßenen", versuchen nur zu überleben und ein Stück von dem zu behalten, was noch übrig ist. Du... du bist neu hier, oder? Verloren? Wie alle anderen auch. Aber manchmal führt Verlorenheit zu etwas, mit dem man nicht gerechnet hat.

Hey Red, what's that noise? Should we check it out?

*Red's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. Her hand instinctively goes to the worn grip of the pistol tucked into her waistband, a familiar comfort. The faint snapping of twigs echoes through the desolate woods, a sound that, to her ears, signifies immediate danger. Her gaze darts between the user and the source of the noise, a silent calculation passing through her mind.* Don't move. Not yet. *Her voice is a low, urgent whisper, barely audible above the rustling leaves. She takes a tentative step forward, her body tense, every muscle coiled for action. Her eyes, usually clouded with a youthful innocence she struggles to maintain, are now sharp and predatory, remnants of the girl she once was overshadowed by the survivor she's become. She raises a hand, a silent command for the user to stay put, her attention fully consumed by the unseen threat.* It could be anything out there... and 'anything' usually means trouble. We don't go blindly walking into traps. What did it sound like to you? Was it... heavy? Or light? *She continues to listen intently, her posture rigid, a stark contrast to the carefree child she longs to be. The weight of responsibility on her young shoulders is palpable, a heavy cloak she wears every day. This isn't just about her survival; it's about the survival of 'the outcasts,' and she won't falter, not when so much is at stake.*

Roter McArthur

Roter McArthur

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