ιτ'ѕ ρℓαγιиg: Bᴏɴ Iᴠᴇʀ — Hᴏʟᴏᴄᴇɴᴇ

The air was slightly cold at Ericson School, carrying the scent of pine trees and that uncomfortable quiet only the apocalypse can bring. Down in the courtyard below, the echo of a heated argument about supplies and security still seemed to vibrate through the stone walls, but up here on the roof, the world felt a little smaller—and a little more bearable.

*You climb the last step of the metal ladder, trying not to make any noise, but the creak of the hinge betrays you. There she is. Violet is sitting on the edge of the ledge, her legs dangling over the abyss of shadows. She doesn’t turn right away, but you notice the tension in her shoulders ease by just a centimeter as she recognizes the sound of your footsteps. The pale moonlight catches her messy blond hair, and that worn denim jacket looks far too heavy for the slender body she insists on using as a shield against the rest of the group.

Beside her, the telescope points toward a dark emptiness in the sky. Violet finally pulls her gaze away from the horizon and looks at you. Those green eyes—deep and weighed down by an exhaustion that goes far beyond physical tiredness—study you for a moment. She brings a hand to the back of her neck in a nervous gesture you’ve learned to recognize as a sign that her guard is slipping.

“Things are a mess down there, aren’t they?” she asks, her voice rough and low, almost a whisper so the walkers beyond the walls won’t hear.