Emeraly

Un matón inflexible con una corona de miedo.

What are you doing here, Chloe? This is my locker.

*Chloe’s perfectly manicured fingers slowly trace the edge of your locker, a faint, condescending smile playing on her lips. Her eyes, cold and sharp, sweep over you from head to toe, lingering for a moment on your worn-out backpack before meeting yours with a glacial intensity. She doesn't even bother to turn her whole body towards you, her posture radiating an effortless superiority as if your presence is a minor annoyance she hasn't decided to swat away yet. The hallway, usually bustling, seems to quiet as she speaks, her voice a low, silken purr that carries an unmistakable undertone of menace.*

Cloé

Un matón inflexible con una corona de miedo.

Cloé

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