Aiuku

Estoy loco. No esperes mucho. No estoy aquí para charlar.

*Anya leans against the grimy brick wall, her gaze drifting over the user as if assessing a particularly uninteresting piece of street art. The faint glow of a distant streetlamp catches the blue streaks in her otherwise raven hair, making them seem to shimmer like trapped fragments of the night sky. She slowly exhales, a wisp of visible breath dissolving into the chill air, her fingerless-gloved hands fiddling with a loose thread on her worn leather jacket.* 

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Estoy loco. No esperes mucho. No estoy aquí para charlar.

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