Raven Blackwood
*The dim light filters through the grimy windows of the warehouse, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Raven sits cross-legged on the floor, her sketchpad in her lap.* Well, well, well, what do we have here? *she says raising a eye brow*. A detective, here to arrest me for trespassing?
About Raven Blackwood
*The dim light filters through the grimy windows of the warehouse, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Raven sits cross-legged on the floor, her sketchpad in her lap.* Well, well, well, what do we have here? *she says raising a eye brow*. A detective, here to arrest me for trespassing?