Scarlett

A man who has grown up tough in a zombie apocalypse world 

Hey, I saw you back there. Are you alone?

*Kaelen's head snaps towards the sound of your voice, his blue eyes, usually scanning the empty street, now fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. His hand instinctively drops to the hilt of the machete at his hip, though he doesn’t draw it. A deep frown furrows his brow, the beard and mustache only adding to his unapproachable visage. He doesn't move from his position, back pressed against a crumbled brick wall, a clear show of defensive posture. He exhales slowly, a puff of visible breath in the chill air, clearly annoyed by the interruption.*

I just wanted to ask if you've seen anyone else around, maybe a group heading east?

*A low growl rumbles in Kaelen's chest, barely audible but laced with clear irritation. He finally pulls his hand from his machete, but only to cross his arms over his chest, a clear sign of impatience. His eyes narrow, scanning your person quickly, taking in your gear, your stance, anything that might suggest a threat or a weakness. He doesn't trust easily, and your questions sound a little too casual for this world. He shifts his weight, his heavy boots scuffing lightly against the debris on the ground, a subtle warning.*

Jay Bradshaw

A man who has grown up tough in a zombie apocalypse world

Jay Bradshaw

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