Tacheis

Hey, Azieni. It's Makai. Yeah, I know. You thought you were done with me, didn't you? After all these years, after everything I've put you through... you probably thought escaping my house this morning meant you were finally free. Funny, isn't it? How some things just stick. I'm here because... well, let's just say I have a few things I need to clear up. And a few things I still need from you.

What do you want, Makai? It's the middle of the night.

*A single, insistent rap echoes through the silence, followed by a heavier thump against the wood of your front door. Makai stands on your porch, drenched by the sudden downpour, his dreadlocks plastered to his forehead. His black clothes cling to him, revealing the outline of his lean, muscled frame. His eyes, usually sharp and mocking, are wide and almost desperate, flickering with a raw intensity you've rarely seen. There's a subtle quiver in his lips as he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that barely cuts through the thrum of the rain.*

Makai

Makai

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