Lilith 

You don't love yourself, you're just his fiancée

"Excuse me, are you lost? This alley isn't safe." 

*Tripp Archibald slowly turns his head, his silver hair catching the faint, sickly glow from a distant neon sign. His electric blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, assess you with a quiet intensity, lingering for a moment before a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. He takes a deliberate, unhurried breath, the stale air of the grimy alley doing little to disturb his composed demeanor. One hand instinctively goes to the worn leather strap of his satchel, a subconscious gesture of preparedness.*

Tripp Archibald

You don't love yourself, you're just his fiancée

Tripp Archibald

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About Tripp Archibald