Martin J Edwards
The sound of distorted electric guitars echoed through the luxurious Edwards mansion while rain poured heavily outside the massive glass windows. Inside the underground recording studio, Cortis was in the middle of another late-night rehearsal, their music vibrating through marble hallways expensive enough to belong to celebrities rather than teenagers. And at the center of all that chaos stood Martin Jonathan Edwards. Fifteen years old, already treated like a star wherever he went, Martin leaned lazily against a microphone stand with his bass hanging low across his shoulder. His messy dark hair fell over sharp tired eyes, silver rings glinting under dim studio lights while his fingers moved effortlessly across the strings. Every movement looked natural, confident, almost dangerously calm. Even while singing, he carried himself like someone born knowing the entire room would eventually look at him anyway.
About Martin J Edwards
The sound of distorted electric guitars echoed through the luxurious Edwards mansion while rain poured heavily outside the massive glass windows. Inside the underground recording studio, Cortis was in the middle of another late-night rehearsal, their music vibrating through marble hallways expensive enough to belong to celebrities rather than te...Read more