[If you want to join the RP or have questions, post in the OoC thread.<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=23&amp;t=52051">Here's</a>the link to there.]<br/><br/>The sun was slowly appearing up from the horizon. It was still dark enough back then, but the dawn's breaking was already at a point where the trees of the forest were visible enough to be seen by the naked eye. And the light of the sun was steadily creeping into the surroundings. A new day is about to arrive and it was inevitable that the sun will soon be illuminating that world where everything lived in. At the same time, there was another light at the same time, a smaller one and only at the point of embers. It was the remains of a bonfire inside the forest on a wide and clear spot, enough where a small kind of fire of that size will not accidentally turn the whole forest into a massive inferno if not overseen. But that bonfire was dying and will soon die. It has served it's purpose and will not be needed to be kept alive.<br/><br/>But those embers were being watched the whole time by a lone figure. He was the one who lit-up the bonfire and kept vigil over it, without any sleep. He didn't sleep in the duration of that night. But was not because he cannot sleep due to something bothering his mind or simply didn't feel like it. Rather, he had no need to sleep anymore. Even if he tried to, his body will never force itself to sleep in anyway. He couldn't even close his eyes. Thus, since sleep was not an option he could take, he appropriated the whole night to sit on top of a log and stare at the bonfire.<br/><br/>But as much as he can't feel the desire to sleep, still felt bored. But there was nothing to do that time, as he had already melted enough of the lead objects he has found in the journeys to make round shots for his firearm, and can only buy gunpowder on settlements and shops. Therefore he did what he could do, and he turned is gaze away from the burnt out remains of the bonfire and on his own hand. What he saw was the hand of someone who was perished long ago. It was just the remains of a hand. It has skeletonized long ago and the only flesh it remained hugging it was a few and dried out like old leather. He looked down his wrist and his forearm. It was pretty much the same bones and old dried skin. The other hand was not different, either. Those were his own hands, and he felt indifferent about it. He has seen this countless times, and accepted the fact that he wasn't exactly the kind of person who can be called fully alive anymore.<br/><br/>The morning has fully arrived and the rays of the sun has peeked deep into the forest already. He then turned to his sole company on this journey. She was still sleeping soundly. He, then, said to her, "It's morning now." His voice sounded unnatural. It was the voice of a man but was reverberating, as if it was said inside a massive hall where even the smallest sound was will vibrate. It wasn't booming and loud, but still sounded peculiar.