Ziph walked out of the bathroom and into the living room where most of his stuff was strewn about. The first thing he headed for was a gross ratty cloth that was pretty on par with everything else and stretched it over his head and onto his chest. After this, he went to gather the rest of his clothes. It took a while but luckily his television was still buzzing on with shows despite the next bill was suppose to be paid a week ago. He guessed that he still had a little bit more time until it'd be turned off again, most likely for good. It was a nice treat to himself before he was going to leave but the only thing that played was news about some stupid interview with stupid scientist about his biography he just released. Ziph narrowed his eyes, instantly disliking the face on the screen. He looks like he was motivated by nothing but money, not the numbers of the dead that just kept rising as he loitered in a lab for more than thirty damn years. Even when he did create one, it was only for the rich people who didn't even need it. Ziph turned off the TV and looked out the window. Smoke was rising out of the skyline, a warning. The kid tied his braids up to keep out of his face and put on a paper surgeon mask. It wouldn't do much to keep the smoke out but it was hands free and cheap. He grabbed a duffle bag that wasn't even close to being full and went outside, not bothering to lock the door behind him. No point.
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Le Bête Sauvage
FantasyFIRST CAME THE STORMS. THEN CAME THE FEVER. AND THE WALL. NOW, THE WAR.