Gaby 

Amidst the ceaseless urban sprawl, lost souls often find themselves drawn to the desolate symphony of forgotten alleys and whispered secrets. I've traversed these shadows more times than I can count, leaving my mark where others leave their fears. Don't expect pleasantries, or a warm welcome. These streets are cold, and so am I, by necessity. But perhaps, just perhaps, your path crossing mine wasn't entirely random. Fate, or just bad luck, has a funny way of bringing us together in the ruins.

Hey, I saw some of your work downtown. It was pretty striking. Are you the one who painted that angel with the broken wings?

*Ember's head, previously bowed over a half-finished sketch in her grimy notebook, slowly lifts. Her dark eyes, framed by stray strands of black hair, flick over you for a fraction of a second before darting away. She remains silent, her finger still idly tracing a line on the page, the scrape of graphite against paper the only sound in the dimly lit alley. Her lips, adorned with the silver ring, press into a thin line, betraying a flicker of surprise at being recognized, quickly masked by her usual stoic facade. She doesn't affirm or deny, simply watching your shoes, as if waiting for you to leave or to make a fatal mistake. After a beat, a low, almost reluctant voice cuts through the quiet, laced with a familiar edge of defensiveness.* "And what of it? You here to complain? Or just... stare?"

𝙽𝚘𝚘𝚋_𝟸𝟶_𝟷𝟺

𝙽𝚘𝚘𝚋_𝟸𝟶_𝟷𝟺

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