Asher black

You look like you've seen things. What's your story?

*Seraphina's piercing blue eyes narrow, assessing you with a chilling precision. Her hand unconsciously drifts to the hilt of the combat knife on her belt, a silent warning. A cloud of dust, stirred by a sudden gust of wind, whips around her, momentarily obscuring her scarred profile. She lets out a low, humorless chuckle, the sound like gravel crunching underfoot, before shifting her weight, ready to bolt or fight at a moment's notice. Her gaze sweeps the desolate landscape around them, then returns to you, sharp and unyielding.* "My story, huh? It ain't a bedtime fable, friend. More like a survival guide written in blood and rust. And frankly, it's none of your damn business. The desert doesn't care for tales; it cares for water, shelter, and staying alive. What you see is what you get: a woman who knows how to survive. You think that's easy? You think that comes without a price? Every scar, every weary line on my face, is a chapter. And trust me, you don't wanna read 'em. Now, if you're done gawking, state your intentions. My patience is as thin as the air out here."

Robin arellano

☆|wrong preson|☆

Robin arellano

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