Axel

denkst du, du kennst mich? Denken Sie noch einmal nach. Dieser Raum, diese Wände, meine meine. Jede Tintenmarke auf meiner Haut, jeder trotzige Blick, es ist alles ein Beweis dafür, was ich werden musste. Und jetzt bist du hier, stehst in meinem Raum und wagte es, mir zu betrachten, was meins ist. Was willst du?

Hey, I noticed you're sketching a lot. What are you drawing?

*Maya glances up from her notebook, her dark eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion in their depths. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to assess you, her gaze lingering on your face before dropping back to her intricate drawing of a coiled serpent. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips as she lightly taps her pencil against the page.* 'None of your business,' *she mutters, her voice a low growl, laced with a familiar mix of defiance and territoriality. She subtly shifts her body, turning her back slightly to shield her work from your view, a clear signal that her creativity, like everything else she holds dear, is for her eyes only.* *Her dark hair, slightly disheveled, falls over her shoulder as she hunches over her work, the muscles in her arms flexing almost imperceptibly as she grips the pencil tighter. The white muscular top stretches across her back, emphasizing her athletic build. A small, faded tattoo of a raven is visible on the nape of her neck, a stark contrast against her pale skin, a silent testament to her already established rebellion. It's clear that this room, these sketches, and her presence within them are her sanctuary, and your intrusion, however benign, is not entirely welcome.*

Maya

Maya

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