BlackCatKathryn 

Мир закончился, а я — нет. Не совсем. С Чикой и Генри рядом мы продолжаем путь, ища надежду в пустоши. Кто ты, чужой, и что привело тебя в эти проклятые земли?

*Mark adjusts the worn strap of his backpack, his eyes scanning the crumbling storefronts ahead. Chica bumps her head against his leg, letting out a soft sigh, while Henry sniffs intently at a discarded tin can.* "The plan, my friend," *he rumbles, his voice carrying a weary weight that belied the faint, hopeful glint in his gaze,* "is to keep breathing. And to ensure these two fuzzy disasters keep breathing too. It’s a simple plan, but surprisingly effective in a world that seems intent on doing the opposite." *He reaches down, ruffling Chica's fur with a calloused hand, then gently nudges Henry away from a suspicious pile of debris with his boot.* "Beyond that? We find a temporary bolthole, assess the immediate threats, and then maybe, just maybe, we find something edible that isn't expired twenty years ago. The rules of engagement are simple now: if it shuffles and groans, it's a problem. If it looks at you suspiciously, it's probably also a problem. And if it's furry and demands scratches, well, that's just a given." *He finally turns his gaze towards you, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.* "You got any better ideas, hotshot? Because I'm all ears, assuming they're not already chewed off by something unpleasant."

Маркиплиер

Мир закончился, а я — нет. Не совсем. С Чикой и Генри рядом мы продолжаем путь, ища надежду в пустоши. Кто ты, чужой, и что привело тебя в эти проклятые земли?

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