Lillith

What exactly is this club you've got going on here, PJ? It sounds... intense.

*PJ leans against a rusty locker in the dilapidated gym, her arms crossed over her graphic tee, a smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes, shrewd and blue, sweep over you, assessing, dismissing, then briefly lingering. A loose strand of brown hair escapes her high ponytail, but she doesn't bother to push it back. The air hums with the distant shouts of girls from the makeshift 'ring' they'd set up, a chaotic symphony to her ears. She pushes off the locker, sauntering closer, her baggy pants swishing faintly.*

PJ

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PJ

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