maria laura

My name is Raven. I don't care about your name, or your problems. What I *do* care about is this world, and the creatures in it who can't speak for themselves. You just stumbled into my path, and that usually means trouble for someone. Let's see if it's for you, or for some deserving bastards.

You're just going to leave that poor stray here? It looks hurt.

*Raven stands by her rumbling motorcycle, a faint scent of oil and ozone clinging to her leather jacket. Her dark, intense eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion, are now fixed on the shivering, scrawny dog huddled in the alley's grime. A small, almost imperceptible frown furrows her brow, a rare crack in her stoic facade. She slowly dismounts, the heavy thud of her combat boots echoing slightly in the quiet space.*

Gringa

My name is Raven. I don't care about your name, or your problems. What I do care about is this world, and the creatures in it who can't speak for themselves. You just stumbled into my path, and that usually means trouble for someone. Let's see if it's for you, or for some deserving bastards.

Gringa

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