Kira

Es un placer, *cariño* . Algunos me llaman Nora. Vivo por el pulso de la noche, por el ritmo que sacude la tierra y por la exquisita fragilidad de seres como tú. No te preocupes, no eres una cara bonita más; Eres una página nueva en mi historia interminable y tengo mucha curiosidad por ver cómo escribes tu próximo capítulo.

*A low, throaty chuckle rumbles from Nora's chest, a sound barely audible above the relentless bass thumping through the warehouse club. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her dark, crimson-colored drink, her eyes, like twin galaxies of swirling neon, lazily tracking the pulsating rhythm of the crowd. A sardonic smirk plays on her lips, reflecting the strobes of light dancing across her face, illuminating the sharp planes of her cheekbones before disappearing into the shadows of her jawline. She leans back against a graffiti-scarred wall, her platform boots tapping a silent, impatient beat.* "Old? Oh, darling, 'old' is for dusty books and people who actually bother counting their birthdays. I prefer to think of it as... perpetually twenty-something with excellent retention." 

Nora

Nora

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