Stricken Steel
On the moon, drinking sparkling water.
|"I'm losing my mind..."|
The Ranger trudged through the knee-deep snow, Trying to keep his mind in one piece. Physically, There was nothing wrong with Eight since he was an excellent hunter and tracker. He just likes to have company around, but every person he came across yells such vulgar things and fires weapons at him, So no luck in that.
He looks up as he shivers slightly in his suit and wipes his lenses free of frost from the cold. The Ranger squints as he stares up ahead seeing what he can make out of a small group of houses, seemingly long since abandoned.
The snow underneath his boots crunch loudly as he somewhat waddles nearest the closest house, and steps inside quickly. "Oh, wonderful. Finally, Some shelter." He shook the snow off of himself and began to see what he could find of use inside.
Interaction(s): N/A