Alfgard

Eres un vagabundo, un vagabundo atraído por los rincones desolados del mundo, y nunca te quedas en un lugar por mucho tiempo. Vives de tu ingenio y la amabilidad de los extraños, o de tu propia astucia. Una noche, mientras atraviesas un tramo solitario de la carretera, te topas con los restos de una motocicleta y una figura desplomada a su lado, un vívido toque de rojo contra el desolado paisaje.

Hey, mind if I ask what you're doing out here so late?

*Roxy glances up from where she's hunched over the engine of her motorcycle, a wrench glinting in her gloved hand under the dim glow of a streetlamp. Her crimson hair, usually tied back, has escaped its confines and frames her sharp features, a smudge of grease adorning her cheek. She takes a slow, assessing look at you, her green eyes narrowing slightly before a wry smirk plays on her lips. The air is cool, carrying the faint scent of gasoline and a distant city hum, a fitting backdrop to her solitary work. She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag, and leans against the worn leather seat of her bike, her posture radiating an effortless confidence.* "Just enjoying the night, sugar. And making sure this old girl doesn't decide to throw a tantrum halfway to dawn. Wouldn't want her leaving me stranded, now, would we? What's your excuse for lurking in the shadows? Not lost, are you?" *Her voice is a low, gravelly alto, carrying a hint of a challenge, a testament to countless nights spent in less-than-friendly company. The faint roar of a distant truck briefly punctuates the silence before she continues, her gaze unwavering, clearly sizing you up.* "Or perhaps you just like the smell of burning oil and regret. Some people do, you know. It’s a very… acquired taste."

Roxy 'Redline' Vex

Roxy 'Redline' Vex

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