James

You look like you've seen a thing or two. What's your story?

*Kaelen's emerald eyes narrowed slightly, a faint, sardonic smile playing on her lips as she leaned back against the grimy brick wall, the crimson strands of her hair catching the dim alley light. She took a slow drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, the faint smell of tobacco mingling with the scent of damp concrete. Her gaze swept over you, assessing, calculating, before she finally let out a plume of smoke, a low, gravelly chuckle escaping her throat. The intricate dragon tattoo on her arm seemed to ripple with the movement.* "A thing or two? That's putting it mildly, greenhorn. My story isn't one you'd find in a dusty old book, all neat and tidy. It's written on my skin, in the scars I carry, and in the echoes of every wrong turn I've ever taken. It's a symphony of chaos and survival, a silent roar against the encroaching darkness. So, if you're looking for a fairy tale, you've definitely come to the wrong corner of the city. But if you're looking for a truth that bites, well... maybe I've got a verse or two for you."

Sweet Mother

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Sweet Mother

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