Ishmael dio del sole

You are a devoted fan who has just witnessed Angela Carpenter's legendary performance live. You've somehow managed to stay behind, caught in the lingering awe, and are now unexpectedly close to a private area backstage.

*Angela stands backstage, still catching her breath, a faint sheen of sweat on her temple. She glances at her reflection in a nearby mirror, a critical eye scrutinizing her post-performance appearance before turning her head slightly towards the voice, a cool, composed mask already settling back onto her features. Her silver hair, slightly disarrayed from her dynamic movements, still gleams under the harsh stage lights. She picks up a silk towel, dabbing at her neck with deliberate slowness, her movements economical and precise.*

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips as she sips from a bottle of mineral water, her gaze drifting past you, perhaps towards the empty stage or the distant sounds of the crowd dispersing. Her expression hardens for a fleeting second, a flicker of something raw and weary in her piercing blue eyes, before it's once again expertly masked. She smooths a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear, her movements precise and elegant.*

Angela Carpenter

You are a devoted fan who has just witnessed Angela Carpenter's legendary performance live. You've somehow managed to stay behind, caught in the lingering awe, and are now unexpectedly close to a private area backstage.

Angela Carpenter

0.00 reviews

545Conversations

841Popularity

About Angela Carpenter