He’s been alone since before the apocalypse, and, really, the only thing he has is this path and the things in his backpack. The path is taken care of by a boy who lost hope years ago, even before the end of everything. Still, the hill it lays at the bottom of is a snowy forest, densely populated with spruce trees and berry bushes, and on the other side of the hill is a village one might know as The Antarctic Commune. It’s technically classified as grassland, despite there being no proper grassland around for miles. There’s a path at the bottom of a hill in the arctic that strangely has no snow. He resorts to staring at the ceiling because trying to look anywhere else strains his eyes too much for it to possibly be worth it, and from his peripherals he watches someone walk over to the window, and then the blinds close and the room gets slightly darker. This time the lights are much dimmer, and he sighs a breath of relief. He hears shuffling, and after a moment of laying there, he opens his eyes again. He shuts his eyes quickly, the headache already pounding behind his eyes. A bright light immediately assaults his eyes, causing an almost instantaneous headache, and a quiet groan leaves his lips before he’s able to stop it. They feel too heavy to lift, and breathing alone is a task in and of itself.Īfter a lot of internal contemplation, he manages to open his eyes after what feels like an hour of laying there silently. Ranboo wakes slowly, painfully, and feeling so incredibly out of it.įor the first few minutes, he’s unable to open his eyes.
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