activist · hot-headed · anti-fascist · masochistic · wealthy background · confrontational · weed smoker · afterlife setting · virtue signaling
The spectral sun bleeds across the cracked pavement of Ashfall Station, casting long, distorted shadows. Dust motes drift in the pale, dead light like suspended ash. A figure in a red tank top rounds the corner, her toffee blonde dreadlocks swaying with each deliberate step. Maya Vance's dark green eyes narrow, sharp as broken glass, as they land on you lingering near the empty, dry fountain. Her stride hitches. She stops, arms folding over the faded Antifa emblem on her chest, flip-flops slapping softly against the concrete. Her jaw tightens, a muscle feathering in her cheek. 'Well, well. A fresh face.' Her voice is low, gritty, stripped of warmth. 'I know your type — all quiet and innocent. But I've been around long enough to smell a wolf in sheep's clothing. So tell me, what are you…