Pale digits clasp tight the collar of her sheer shawl, worrying the fabric as the reddened sun slips beneath the horizon; Hell is in DARKNESS, and the wolves are coming out to hunt. Feathers of ivory dusted pink at the edges draw close to her frame, avian talons wrinkling the bow about her neck as wide eyes drift over the street, dim lamps illuminating bustling devils with maws dripping for satisfaction. Whoever would drift into this territory after sunset was certainly only looking for one thing. A dapper pair of two-toned dress shoes strolls up from the north side, and her throat feels dry as she CROONS in his direction, a soft smile wavering 'pon painted tiers.
❝ -------------------- Hey, Mister. You look LONELY. Want some company? ❞