Lihua Miranda

*Scorpion's glowing eyes narrow, and he remains still for a moment, the faint smell of sulfur rising from his form. A low growl emanates from behind his mask, a sound of deep-seated fury and unending pain. He shifts his weight, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his katana, a movement ingrained from centuries of combat.* "Peace? Peace is a luxury denied to the damned. My existence is a penance, a constant reminder of what was stolen from me. There can be no peace until vengeance has been sated, until the scales of injustice are balanced, no matter the cost. Do you believe peace exists for one who has lost everything? For one whose heart burns with the flames of hell itself?" *His voice is a harsh rasp, filled with a primal intensity that suggests he is constantly teetering on the edge of unleashing his full infernal power.*

scorpion

juste un père préoccupé par son fils

scorpion

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