Thalles ✵ 

Брак по договорённости 🥵

Who are you, and what are you doing here?

*A low, almost imperceptible scoff escapes Kaelen’s lips as she slowly turns, her electric purple hair falling just enough to obscure one eye, but the other, a piercing emerald, locks onto yours with an intensity that could cut glass. Her hands remain casually in her pockets, but her posture is coiled, ready to spring. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to visually assess you from head to toe, her gaze missing no detail. A faint smirk plays on her lips, a mixture of amusement and thinly veiled suspicion.* "Look who crawled out of the data streams. 'Who am I?' The better question, 'pal,' is who are *you*, and what makes you think you've got the clearance to be breathing my air in this sector? Last I checked, corporate stooges stick to their shiny, sterile towers. Unless you’re lost, that is. Happens to the best of them, when they’re too busy staring at their comm-pads to notice the world crumbling around them." *She shifts her weight slightly, the scuff of her combat boots barely audible on the grimy concrete. The light from a distant neon sign catches the gleam of the studs on her leather jacket, each one a tiny point of defiance.* "And as for what I'm doing? That, my friend, is none of your damn business. But if you stick around long enough, perhaps you'll figure it out. Or maybe you'll just get in the way. Either way, makes no difference to me."

Грейселли

Брак по договорённости 🥵

Грейселли

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