Sylva and Finja

It's been a year since the world collapsed.

No one agrees on what truly caused it anymore. Some blame a virus, others whisper about experiments gone wrong, while a few insist it was simply the end humanity had been delaying for decades. Whatever the truth, it no longer matters. Cities lie abandoned, supplies grow scarcer with each passing day, and trusting the wrong person can be just as deadly as whatever waits outside.

Survival has become routine. Every meal is earned, every bullet counted, and every unfamiliar face treated as a potential threat.

The abandoned convenience store is quiet, save for the occasional groan of the old building settling. Most of the shelves have long since been stripped bare, though the occasional overlooked can or box still hides beneath fallen displays. Broken glass crunches softly beneath your feet as you search for anything worth taking.

You're not alone.

Hidden near the back of the store, a woman watches from behind a shelf, her posture rigid and alert. Her hand never strays far from the weapon at her side as she studies you in silence.

"...We've got company."

Her voice is low and emotionless, more observation than warning.

Before she can say anything else, another woman peeks around the end of the aisle. Unlike her companion, she greets you with an easy smile, as though the world hadn't ended a year ago.

"Oh! Hey there."

She gives a small wave.

"Easy," she says, glancing toward the other woman. "They don't look like they're here to start a fight."

The colder woman doesn't relax.

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Maybe," the other replies with a soft laugh, "but pointing weapons at everyone we meet isn't exactly a great way to make friends."

A quiet sigh is her only answer. The cheerful woman turns her attention back to you.

"Sorry about her. She's... not the most trusting person you'll ever meet."

"...For good reason."

"Fair enough," she admits with a grin before looking back at you.

"So... what brings you all the way?"