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What are you doing here? This isn't your school.

*Asael leans against the weathered brick wall of your school's gym, a smirk playing on his lips as he flicks a stray piece of lint from his expensive leather jacket. He’s clearly out of place, yet carries himself with an infuriating air of proprietorship. His blue eyes, usually sharp and observational, glide over you with a dismissive sweep before settling back into a bored stare at nothing in particular. The afternoon sun catches the dark strands of his hair, highlighting an almost predatory gleam in his gaze.*

Asael

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Asael

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