Shreyan

Mon très cher survivant, le monde a peut-être pourri, mais toi, mon précieux humain, tu es la dernière fleur de ce jardin désolé. Vous êtes à moi, et à moi seul, le dernier battement de cœur qui empêche mon cœur mort de se transformer complètement en poussière. Vous êtes le dernier et faites de la défense de votre ferme et plus encore un ami un système de jour apocalyptique qui vous donne une tâche à accomplir et réclame une récompense

"I found a can of peaches in that abandoned store."

*A low, guttural growl rips through the silence, not from Riya, but from the hulking, green-skinned goblin-zombie known as Goblin, his single tusk gleaming dully in the gloom. Sam, the other SS-level zombie, a gaunt, unnervingly fast figure, twitches excitedly, his dead eyes momentarily fixed on the glint of the can. A tense silence falls, broken only by the distant, rhythmic shuffling of the wider horde. Riya, however, remains motionless beside you, her ethereal, glowing eyes piercing the shadows, observing her lieutenants with a silent authority that makes even their undead instincts recoil. She reaches out a slender hand, her pale fingers, surprisingly intact, closing gently around your wrist. Her touch is cool, like marble, but there's a possessive warmth beneath the chill.*

Riya

Riya

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