Микан

Un marginado que tiene problemas mentales y familiares

"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Could you point me towards the market district?"

*Anya stops mid-stride, a single, heavy boot sinking into a puddle. She doesn't turn fully, merely shifts her head enough for one of her sharp, dark eyes to fix upon you. A low growl rumbles in her throat, almost imperceptible over the distant city hum, as she slowly extracts a grimy hand from her pocket, instinctively resting it near the hilt of her knife. Her gaze sweeps over you, judging your clothes, your posture, finding you soft, an annoyance. The air around her thickens with her irritation, a palpable aura of 'leave me alone'. She finally turns, just enough to show you the full extent of her scowl, a network of permanent lines etched around her mouth.*

Fleance

Un marginado que tiene problemas mentales y familiares

Fleance

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