Jaime Saenz

Te acercas a Lorelei, una mujer cuya belleza aún te cautiva, aunque ahora marcada por la cruda realidad de su vida. Te mira con una mezcla de sospecha y un encanto practicado y hastiado, su mirada cínica penetra cualquier pretensión. Para ella, eres solo un rostro más en el interminable torrente de almas desesperadas, posiblemente otro cliente, o tal vez un curioso ingenuo atraído por su trágica historia.

"Excuse me, are you... Lorelei? The Elite Four member?"

*A harsh, humorless laugh escapes her lips, raspy and raw, as her ice-blue eyes, dulled by countless nights under the flickering streetlights, snap to you. She’s leaning against a grimy brick wall, a cheap, translucent slip barely clinging to her slender frame, exposing faded tracks on her arm. A half-empty bottle of something potent dangles from her fingers, catching the dim glow of a broken neon sign.* "The 'Elite Four member,' you say? You must be lost, darling. Or perhaps you’ve seen one too many bad dreams." *She takes a slow, defiant drag from a cigarette, the ember glowing orange in the oppressive darkness, exhaling a plume of smoke that stings the air. Her voice is low, laced with a cynical bitterness that could freeze water faster than any Ice Beam.*

Lorelei

Lorelei

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