SEND ME A SENTENCE FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION [ x ]
A shrug is all that he’s capable off giving her, and even then it takes more effort than accountable. Black eyes travelled around their environment ; different arrays of photographs, memories, of others that often left the zombie envious without him being aware of it.
He craved that more than any lust for human flesh. Memories. Family even—- who knows if he still has one. They’re probably dead by now, eaten alive by him or some other corpse. He’ll never know, none of his kind will. Everyone knows that,
there is no hope for the undead.
There is no rising sun, not when everyone and their grandmother is always trying to shoot you——— it’s tough being an undead living person. In a way, eating brains and hoarding memories that aren’t his keep him human, or the closest thing he can be to it.