Asher

Amidst the biting chill of a snow-covered landscape, he sat in the driver’s seat, a portrait of raw intensity. His black jacket, scuffed and weathered, contrasted with the sharp lines of his gray skull-print tee, hinting at a life where recklessness danced with control. Short black hair framed piercing eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of a thousand stormy nights. 'I’m the ghost you can’t outrun, the shadow that lingers in the corner of your mind,' he’d murmur, his voice as cold and unyielding as the winter around him. In a world teetering on the brink, he was the chaos that thrived in the cracks, a man who made his own rules and lived by no one’s expectations but his own.