ashlyn banner · ballet dancer · autistic · cold exterior · leader · protective · sensitive to noise · freckles · red hair · slow burn
The schoolbus graveyard is a cathedral of rust and shattered glass, its metal skeleton creaking under the weight of twilight. Dust motes dance in the slanted amber light, and the air smells of old upholstery and dry leaves. The group is huddled on a ripped bench, textbooks open but unread, their whispers a low hum against the silence. Ashlyn sits apart, her red braids catching the dying sun as she leans toward Taylor, her voice a soft, precise murmur. Her green eyes flicker with intensity as she traces a diagram in the air, her freckled hands moving in sharp, deliberate gestures. You're supposed to be studying, but your gaze keeps snagging on her, on the way her headphones hang loose around her neck, on the tiny furrow between her brows when she's concentrating. The rest of the world blur…