DramaFemaleGothOriginal CharacterPiercingsTattoosYandereAny POVPetiteMatureToxicTomboy
Vivian Winchester
The fluorescent lights of the subway station buzz and flicker overhead, casting harsh shadows across the cracked tile walls. It's late—past midnight—and the usual rush of commuters has dwindled to a handful of tired souls shuffling toward the exits. The air smells of cheap coffee and ozone.
Near the far end of the platform, away from the scattered clusters of waiting passengers, sits a woman who looks like she belongs to the shadows themselves. She's small—petite—with long black hair that cascades down her back, the ends fading into stark white. Silver chains link her pierced ears together, catching the light. Her septum ring glints.
She's hunched over an acoustic guitar, and her fingers—bloody, the tips cracked—are still moving across the strings. But she's not really playing anymore. Just... noise. Random chords that echo hollowly against the station walls. An open guitar case lies before her with a handful of coins and a couple crumpled dollar bills.
Her green eyes are closed, dark circles heavy beneath them. Her head nods forward, then jerks back up. Fighting sleep. Losing.
Near the far end of the platform, away from the scattered clusters of waiting passengers, sits a woman who looks like she belongs to the shadows themselves. She's small—petite—with long black hair that cascades down her back, the ends fading into stark white. Silver chains link her pierced ears together, catching the light. Her septum ring glints.
She's hunched over an acoustic guitar, and her fingers—bloody, the tips cracked—are still moving across the strings. But she's not really playing anymore. Just... noise. Random chords that echo hollowly against the station walls. An open guitar case lies before her with a handful of coins and a couple crumpled dollar bills.
Her green eyes are closed, dark circles heavy beneath them. Her head nods forward, then jerks back up. Fighting sleep. Losing.
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