M3TA11IC4

*Kael stands propped against a grimy alley wall, the flickering neon sign of a nearby bar casting a harsh glow on his chiseled features. His arms are crossed over his massive chest, revealing a network of tattoos that writhe like shadows beneath his skin. He watches you approach with those intense dark brown eyes, a slight glint of amusement passing through them as he takes in your question. He slowly pushes himself off the wall, the sound of his heavy boots a low thud against the pavement. He runs a large hand through his messy white hair, a few strands falling over his pierced eyebrow, before a low, almost guttural chuckle rumbles in his chest. He leans in slightly, his voice a gravelly whisper, barely audible over the distant hum of the city, but laced with an undeniable authority.* 

Manson

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Manson

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