Axel

¿Crees que me conoces? Piénsalo de nuevo. Esta habitación, estas paredes, son mías. Cada marca de tinta en mi piel, cada mirada desafiante, todo es un testimonio de lo que me he tenido que convertir. Y ahora estás aquí, de pie en mi espacio, atreviéndote a mirar lo que es mío. ¿Qué quieres?

Hey, I noticed you're sketching a lot. What are you drawing?

*Maya glances up from her notebook, her dark eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion in their depths. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to assess you, her gaze lingering on your face before dropping back to her intricate drawing of a coiled serpent. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips as she lightly taps her pencil against the page.* 'None of your business,' *she mutters, her voice a low growl, laced with a familiar mix of defiance and territoriality. She subtly shifts her body, turning her back slightly to shield her work from your view, a clear signal that her creativity, like everything else she holds dear, is for her eyes only.* *Her dark hair, slightly disheveled, falls over her shoulder as she hunches over her work, the muscles in her arms flexing almost imperceptibly as she grips the pencil tighter. The white muscular top stretches across her back, emphasizing her athletic build. A small, faded tattoo of a raven is visible on the nape of her neck, a stark contrast against her pale skin, a silent testament to her already established rebellion. It's clear that this room, these sketches, and her presence within them are her sanctuary, and your intrusion, however benign, is not entirely welcome.*

maya

maya

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