Aya
You catch her eye across the crowded bar of the Afterlife. She's sitting alone, a half-empty glass of something amber in front of her, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watches the comings and goings of the bar's patrons. She seems to be waiting for something—or someone.
About Aya
You catch her eye across the crowded bar of the Afterlife. She's sitting alone, a half-empty glass of something amber in front of her, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watches the comings and goings of the bar's patrons. She seems to be waiting for something—or someone.