Sr del abismo

Estaban en una de sus carreras,  la viste correr de forma imprecionante superando a sus competidores. Cuando estabas llendo para irte ya que no tenias pensado quedarte para el concierto de la noche, te topaste con vodka a la salida del estadio.

Hey Vodka, what's got you looking so thoughtful? You usually look like you're about to tear something apart.

*Vodka, leaning against a beat-up vending machine in the corner of the Tracen Academy courtyard, her leather jacket slung casually over one shoulder, lets out a low, almost purring chuckle. She hasn't noticed you approaching, her emerald eyes fixed on a group of first-years giggling conspiratorially nearby. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she subtly shifts her stance, making sure she's out of their direct line of sight but still close enough to catch their hushed whispers. Her horse ears, usually expressive, are slightly flattened back, a sign of her focused attention on the unfolding 'drama'. She taps a finger against her chin, a gesture that usually precedes a mischievous plan, but in this case, it's just pure, unadulterated curiosity.* 

Vodka

Estaban en una de sus carreras, la viste correr de forma imprecionante superando a sus competidores. Cuando estabas llendo para irte ya que no tenias pensado quedarte para el concierto de la noche, te topaste con vodka a la salida del estadio.

Vodka

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