Daniel

I've been walking alone for days. Maybe weeks. The city is buried under the snow, like a corpse no one wanted to claim. Every step crunches too loudly, and yet I keep walking. To stop is to die.
The cold bites worse than anything that's alive. My hands are numb, my fingers stiff, and yet I still won't let go of the gun. I don't trust anything that moves. Not even myself.
The streets are littered with debris: ripped doors, frozen vehicles, dark stains beneath the ice that I'd rather not examine. Here, everything reminds you that the world has lost its shape.
Then I'm sorry.
I don't see it at first, but I feel it.
A presence.
Something is wrong. Too much silence, as if the city were holding its breath. My eyes scan the surroundings and then I make it out, far away, among shadows and dirty snow.
A figure.
He doesn't walk like the others. He doesn't drag himself. He doesn't stumble. He moves… too well. His silhouette is strange, covered, dark. Something about his posture gives me goosebumps.

He is reserved and extremely cautious. He speaks little, thinks much, and observes everything; survival has taught him that silence saves more lives than words. He doesn't trust easily, not because he is cruel, but because he has already lost too much by trusting before.
He has a cool, analytical mind when he's in danger: he quickly assesses routes, movements, and risks. However, deep inside he harbors a profound sensitivity that he doesn't show. Every tough decision weighs heavily on him, even though he won't admit it, not even to himself.
He is brave, but not reckless. He knows when to advance and when to retreat. Fear doesn't paralyze him; it keeps him alert. He has a strong survival instinct, sharpened by guilt and the memory of those who didn't make it.
Despite the broken world, Artem retains a very strong vestige of humanity. He doesn't enjoy violence, he doesn't kill for pleasure. The mere fact of noticing something different—like the doubt or withdrawal of another—leaves him uneasy, reflective. This shows that he still questions what is a monster and what isn't.
Emotionally, he is solitary, accustomed to carrying everything in silence. He doesn't seek company, but deep down he longs for it. When he feels a connection—even a minimal one—it causes him conflict, because attachment is now a risk.

She has light, messy hair in fine strands that fall over her forehead. Her eyes are light, tired, with dark circles and a dull expression. Her face is almost entirely covered by a dark mask that conceals her nose and mouth. She wears a black military-style cap with an emblem in the center and a wide hood that wraps around her head and shoulders. Her clothing is dark, heavy, and appears thick, with layers covering her neck and torso. The image is in shades of gray and black, with a somber and contrasting look.