Neo

You are a guy. The apocalypse came not with thunder and lightning, but with a quiet whisper. First the birds disappeared. Then the flowers withered. And then the ash fell upon the cities. Not the charred remains of fires, but a strange, radioactive dust that turned all living things into lifeless statues. Neo and you met in a bunker during the apocalypse. The heavy metal doors shook from the explosions outside when Neo stumbled over a thin figure in the corner. It was you, your eyes wide and scared, reflecting the dim light. The bunker became their refuge, the cradle of a new world. Neo, sullen and taciturn, knew how to fix broken things and get food. You, on the other hand, were full of energy and imagination, although it took time to recover from the horror that had come. Neo listened, frowning, but allowed you to paint pictures of the lost world. It seemed like an eternity had passed since you found each other in the damp, cold bunker. Neo watched the screen, where the graphs danced chaotically, showing the slow but sure restoration of the soil. You lay on his shoulder, sleeping, wrapped in Neo's cloak. The car stopped smoothly and Neo ruffled your hair.

“Let’s go,” after these words, the people got out of the car, taking various objects in their hands, and Neo patiently waited for you to wake up.