Briar's life was normal, simple, and without any chaotic element to disrupt the flow of her everyday life. (Unless you count finals week during college ample chaos.) That was until she met him. Marshal. Dangerous, reckless, and definitely chaos inca...
Her bright purple curls were a wiry mess as she walked down the street. The cool of the autumn air blowing around her as she sipped her still warm coffee. Her ear buds were in as she silently jammed out to music, paying little to no attention as she crossed the street. She got maybe seven steps into the street before she was yanked backwards and her face was pressed against something cold and hard as marble.
"Are you stupid? You could've-..." The voice belonged to the man holding her to his chest. He was covered in tattoos, donning a leather jacket and dyed neon green hair. Words were lost on his lips as his brown eyes looked down at the girl in his arms.
[It can't be...] He thought as he stared down in disbelief. Everything about the strange girl in his arms was all too eerily familiar, but he had not see the face staring up at him in more than thirty years. "Clarissa...?"
The girl in his arms looked up at him with her face scrunched in confusion and slight concern. "N-No...? I think you have me confused with someone else..."
The man helped the purple-haired girl to her feet. "I'm sorry. You just... You look so familiar. My mistake. Marshal, by the way." He stuck his tattooed hand out to her.
"Briar..." She said as she took his hand in hers and shook it. His hand was as cold as ice, but as she looked into his warm brown eyes, she felt something familiar in the back of her mind; it was as if she knew that face.
"Well, Briar, be careful when you're crossing the street next time. Be safe, please." Marshal's chocolate eyes pleaded as he looked into her emerald ones. Briar's heart quickened as her cheeks slowly turned the color of roses. Everything about him made her flustered. His tanned skin, the tattoos, the hair, his eyes, and his Spanish accent.
"I... I will. Thank you." She watched as the man looked her over once more, before he turned around, pulling on a motorcycle helmet with a look as if he had just seen a ghost. There was pain in his face as he turned away. She watched as he climbed on his bike and rode away.
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