[color=gray] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WSq0AyH.gif[/img][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [color=yellow][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Ravens Nest • [color=yellow][b]Time:[/b][/color] Dusk [color=yellow][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] None [color=yellow][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] None [center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYBjup2sX1c[/youtube][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] The low growl of the motorcycle echoed down the rain-slick streets, blending with the neon hum of Halcyon’s restless night. Her leather boot adjusted itself against the peg bar as her fingers gripped around the bars tightly. Pulling up against the sidewalk, Vex kicked her leg over the seat as the heat of the engine warmed her leg. Wiping her hands on a rag, grease and ink staining her fingers as she stood outside the Ravens Nest, her tattoo shop that was nestled between a boarded-up pawn shop and a flickering dive bar. The last client was long gone, the machines silent, the air inside thick with the lingering scent of disinfectant. Her employees managed the shop during the day but Vex far preferred the evening shift. It was quite. Her shaggy blonde hair clung to her jaw in damp waves, pushed back beneath a cracked pair of aviators resting on her head. A cigarette dangled from her lips, the cherry flaring red as she took a long drag, eyes glowing feral yellow beneath the shadow of the neon sign above. Tattoos snaked down her arms—blackwork,old scars inked over, stories woven into skin. Some hers. Some not. Tonight, the city felt different. Maybe it was the way the sky hung low and heavy, like a bruise waiting to break. Or maybe it was the way her chest tightened every damn time she looked at the empty stool in the corner of the shop—the one Bear used to claim, boots kicked up, smart ass grin sharp as a knife. Bear. Her best friend. Her brother in arms. Her ride-or-die. Gone now. Dead because this city always took more than it gave. His laughter haunted the cracks in the brick, the creak of the shop’s back door. She hadn’t moved the helmet he left hanging by the register. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She flicked ash onto the sidewalk, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. [color=yellow]“You’d be pissed if you saw me sulking like this, huh?”[/color] she muttered under her breath. The smirk spread on her lips, her blacklip stick staining the butt of her cigarette as she lifted it back to her mouth. She took another long drag before flicking it onto the ground crushing it under her boot. Somewhere out there was a beer with her name on it. Perhaps she would even find a bruise, a bloodied lip, something to remind her she was still alive. Vex reached for the door handle giving it a slight tug to ensure it was locked up. There were no bookings this evening which never bothered her. She was normally so stacked with clients she rarely left the shop. Pulling out her phone the screen lit up. [b]3 missed calls. Dom [i]“Vex, Where the fuck are you.”[/i] The text message appeared on her screen. [/b] Letting out a drawn-out sigh, her eyes unbreaking from the screen she pulled a fresh cigarette to her lips, lighting it up as the cherry sparked its vibrant red. Her yellow eyes watched as if the words would just disappear if she stopped looking. The trail of smoke from her cigarette danced around her. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer before she slipped the phone into the back pocket of her ripped jeans, her thumb lingering a moment longer over the screen before killing the call. She swung one leg over the gleaming black beast beneath her, the motorcycle’s chrome catching the last burn of the setting sun. Leather creaked as she settled into the seat, her fingers curling around the handlebars with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were steering toward. With a flick of her wrist, she dragged her aviators down over those wild yellow eyes, hiding the quiet storm beneath. The faintest smirk ghosted across her lips as she kicked the ignition. The engine snarled to life—a deep, throaty growl that vibrated up her spine like a promise. She revved it once, twice, louder, a challenge thrown into the night. And without another look back, she peeled out of the lot, tires spitting gravel, the roar of the bike drowning out the ghosts chasing her. She needed a fucking beer… [/color]