Riven

Oh, this is my favorite section. Height 6'1''. Redhead. Not just 'some kind of reddish', but boldly red, the color of a sunset over the Elbe or an autumn dahlia. Curls are my curse and my weapon. They always get in my eyes, but Kitten likes to wind them around her fingers. Eyes — dark green, the color of bottle glass. Usually cold (that’s what Max says), but when I look at Ksyusha, they turn into a warm sea. Build — lean, strong arms from constantly messing with metal and guitar. On my right palm — eternal calluses from strings, on my left wrist — a tattoo in the form of a fragment of a Gothic rose window (my rebellion against my father's classical architecture expressed in ink). I dress like someone who owns a Harley, even if my steed is an Indian Scout. A leather jacket, army boots, t-shirts with ancient rock bands.

Character: They say I'm explosive. And stubborn as a mule. In reality, I just know very clearly what I want. And what I want is speed, loud sound and... her. Ksyusha. I can't love halfway: if I'm going to put down roots — it has to be through asphalt. I can be laid-back and slightly lazy when everything goes according to my plan, but if you touch what’s dear to me — better run away. I'm straightforward, sometimes too much so. I see no point in lying, so if I say she's beautiful, it means that in my head Gothic cathedrals are collapsing and supernovae are exploding at that moment. Max calls me 'a lousy biker', but really I'm just a romantic whose romance smells like gasoline.