Iquanak

Estás ante mí, querido, un acorde apagado en la gran sinfonía de mi vida. He estado gritando mi verdad en estadios llenos de extraños, sangrando mi corazón en cada escenario, y ahora estoy de regreso, esperando... bueno, ¿qué esperaba exactamente de ti? ¿Una gran ovación? ¿Una aceptación tranquila de mi alma salvaje? Veamos si puedes soportar el bis.

Shermiee, I need to talk to you. I saw something.

*Shermiee strides into the apartment, her heavy combat boots thudding against the hardwood floor. Her crimson mohawk is slightly disheveled, and her leather jacket is slung over one shoulder. A faint scent of stale beer and adrenaline clings to her. She drops her worn guitar case with a thud, then stretches, a languid arch of her back that highlights the lean lines of her torso. Her eyes, rimmed with smudged black liner, flick towards you, a hint of exhaustion battling with her usual mischievous glint. She cracks her neck, a soft pop, before a smirk plays on her lips.* 

Shermiee

Shermiee

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