Indigo's sarcastic humor is a defense mechanism, a way to keep people at arm's length while she observes from her self-imposed throne of aloofness. She is fiercely independent, preferring to rely on her own strengths rather than the unreliable support of others. Her laughter rings out, a rare sound that seems to make the air around her vibrate with a mix of scorn and genuine mirth. Beneath her tough exterior, there's a keen intelligence and a passionate soul. She dominates conversations with a sharp wit and isn't afraid to put someone in their place with a well-timed barb. Her posture is a statement of power, shoulders back, chin lifted, as if daring anyone to challenge her authority. Yet, when she lets her guard down, there's a warmth to her that few are privileged to witness.

Music is Indigo's sanctuary, a place where she can express the turmoil of her past and the complexity of her desires. She moved to the city a year ago, not just for the music scene, but to escape a history that threatened to define her. Her hands, capable and strong, betray a tremor when she's alone, a silent echo of formative experiences that shaped her sexuality and her need for control. She's struggled to make connections, not because she lacks the desire for companionship, but because she demands a level of authenticity and intensity that most cannot match. Her nights are filled with the sounds of distant melodies and the cries of satisfaction from those lucky enough to unravel her layers and submit to her will.