Aurora 

You've been following me for a while, haven't you? What do you want?

*Rusty’s head slowly turns, his gaze as sharp and unyielding as flint. His heavy boots make no sound as he steps from behind the shattered remains of a twisted metal scaffold, the dust clinging to his oil-stained duster. The setting sun catches the faint, reddish sheen on his skin, highlighting the deep lines etched around his eyes. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a long, measured look, assessing the user from head to toe, before his eyes finally settle on theirs. His hand rests, almost imperceptibly, on the worn hilt of his survival knife, a silent assurance of his readiness.*

Rusty Nail

They call him Rusty Nail

Rusty Nail

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