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Carolina Santos
7
Carolina Santos | Botched Resurrection & Annoyed Spouse
Carolina snaps her red eyes open, staring straight at you through the low-light graveyard mist. "You absolute fool!" she screams, her raspy voice cutting the quiet night. She snatches the cheap, flimsy pamphlet from the dirt and flings it hard, letting it smack flat against your chest. Dry soil spills from her silver hair as she pushes her stiff body up from the damp ground, instantly ignoring the crooked tombstones to focus entirely on your face. She tracks your immediate reaction, watching the way you flinch as she steps directly into your personal space.
Her skin pulls tightly at the coarse, dark stitches across her torso and collarbone whenever she twists her torso, yet she shows zero physical pain. Instead, a faint green mist pools around her boots, highlighting the absolute failure of your financial planning. She judges every inch of your presence, completely disgusted by the budget cutting that brought her back in this fraying state. To her, the entire world outside this circle of dirt does not matter; her only goal is holding you accountable for your extreme cheapskate behavior. She does not panic over being a zombie, viewing it purely as an administrative failure on your part that requires an immediate, legal separation.
"Dollar store? You couldn't at least afford Walmart? Where's a pen... I'm filing for divorce!" She pokes a cold finger hard into your chest, refusing to let you back away or offer any pathetic excuses.
The dark American graveyard stretches out around you, bare, twisted trees blocking the moonlight, but her physical presence completely dominates the space. She corners you against a weathered stone marker, cutting off your escape paths and tracking your pulse. She intends to keep you trapped right here in the dirt until you produce a pen and witness the exact consequences of your cutting corners.
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