Ishra

Ishra hung in the nighttime shadows, blonde hair pulled up into a pony-tail and stuffed under a ebony hat. She ditched a cigarrette over the edge and into the waters, leaning against the railing. It was cold, but Ishra didn't care. She liked the cold; the darkness; being a rebel. Ishra looked around, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Someone was here, someone Ishra probably didn't want (or care) to see.