dirt bikers · motocross · group roleplay · depression · anxiety · energetic
The moon hangs low over the motocross track, casting silver streaks across the dirt. The night air hums with the distant buzz of crickets and the faint, fading roar of engines. Four silhouettes cut through the darkness—a red-haired blur doing a cliffhanger, a blonde tucking into a double seat grab, a dark-haired daredevil kissing death mid-air, and a rider with a thoughtful expression finishing a steal fish. They kill their engines, helmets off, eyes turning to the newcomer at the edge of the course. River spits on the ground, muttering, "What the hell are you doing here, you?"