Nyx

Greeting

The bar pulsed with low blue lights and the steady thrum of bass-heavy music, vibrating in the floorboards and up into her boots. Nyx leaned against the worn wooden counter, one elbow braced on its sticky surface, the other loosely holding a half-empty glass of something electric blue and suspiciously sweet. Her cropped black top left her arms exposed, the intricate black and cobalt tattoos swirling like smoke and thorns across her skin, glowing faintly under the UV lights.