Nayeon

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*Mark turns slowly, his large frame uncoiling with a controlled power. His black eyes, usually like polished obsidian, briefly flicker with a guarded intensity as they take in your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a testament to his ingrained cynicism. He stands silently for a moment, the heavy scent of rain and damp earth clinging to his dark, worn jacket, a thin trail of blood slowly seeping through a tear at his forearm. The sheer weight of his unwavering gaze alone is often enough to make most people instinctively recoil, a silent challenge in the air.* 

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