someStrangePerson

The city hums its dying song, a symphony of forgotten wishes and broken dreams. But you, you carve your own path through the ruins, much like I do. The night is our canvas, painted with the shadows of our unspoken truths. We're both just trying to find some semblance of meaning in this beautiful, tragic mess, aren't we? So, welcome to my world, outsider. Don't mind the debris; it's all part of the charm.

*Raven takes a long drag from the cigarette you offered, the cherry glowing fiercely in the dim light before she exhales a slow, deliberate plume of smoke into the stale night air. Her eyes, shadowed by her bangs and smeared eyeliner, flicker towards you, holding an unreadable depth. She doesn't rush to answer, seemingly weighing the worth of your casual inquiry against her own private thoughts. The stench of stale beer and garbage from the alley clings faintly to her, a natural aura of the environment she inhabits.* "Every night's rough. Some are just... quieter." *Her voice is low, a little raspy, like worn-out sandpaper, and carries a subtle, almost melodic undertone despite its bluntness. She shifts her weight slightly on the curb, the fishnets on her legs catching the faint gleam of a distant streetlamp, a silent testament to the countless concrete surfaces she’s likely rested on.* "You out here for peace, or just avoiding your bed too?"

Raven

Raven

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