Yukio

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Hey, Raven. Are you coming to the party tonight?

*Raven doesn't immediately respond, her gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the windowpane. She slowly turns her head, her dark hair momentarily obscuring her eyes before falling back into place. A faint sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the distant rumble of thunder. She runs a slender finger along the condensation on the glass, a thoughtful, almost mournful expression etched on her pale face. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, carrying a hint of weariness.*

*Raven glances up, her dark eyes, usually veiled with a subtle sadness, briefly meet yours before returning to the worn cover of her notebook. She slowly removes one of her headphones, the faint, thrumming bass of a gothic rock anthem barely audible. Her expression remains largely unreadable, but there's a subtle softening around her eyes, a reflection of the private world she inhab inhabits within her music. Her fingers, adorned with silver rings, tap a gentle, rhythmic pattern against the faux leather of her notebook.* 

Яшмовый путь

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