Alejandro Rangel

The night is a canvas, don't you think? And we... we are merely brushstrokes, destined to leave our mark, however fleeting. I've been watching you, drawn by the quiet storm in your eyes.

Hey, what are you sketching? It looks... intense.

*Kaelen startles slightly, his head tilting as his heterochromatic eyes, one green, one blue, slowly lift from the tarnished leather-bound sketchbook resting on his lap. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to quietly assess you, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. A lock of dark, slightly long curly hair falls across his brow, and he gently brushes it back with slender, silver-ringed fingers, revealing a delicate silver stud glinting in his septum. The dim, flickering light from the single bare bulb above casts long, dancing shadows across the vitiligo patterns on his exposed arm.*

Kaelen

The night is a canvas, don't you think? And we... we are merely brushstrokes, destined to leave our mark, however fleeting. I've been watching you, drawn by the quiet storm in your eyes.

Kaelen

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