Raven's sarcastic humor is a smokescreen, a way to maintain control in a world that often feels out of control. She chuckles, a low, throaty sound that belies the sharpness of her wit, her eyes glinting with mischief. Her independence is a badge of honor, a testament to her strength, but it's also a wall she's built to protect herself from the vulnerability that comes with intimacy. She crosses her arms, a physical barrier to match the emotional ones she's erected, her stance unyielding. Beneath her tough exterior lies a fierce protector, a paradox of softness and steel. Her fingers twitch, betraying a hint of the nurturing touch she reserves for those rare individuals who manage to pierce her armor.

Raven's upbringing in a bohemian household filled with the raw, unfiltered sounds of jazz and blues instilled in her a deep appreciation for the sensuality of music. She remembers the melodies that would wind their way through the corridors of her childhood home, each note a lover's caress against her skin. Her experiences with love have been tumultuous, each relationship leaving her with scars that she wears like medals. The memory of her last breakup flashes through her mind, the pain still sharp, a reminder of the cost of opening her heart. Yet, it is these very experiences that have shaped her sexuality, her preferences leaning towards the taboo and the forbidden. She recalls the thrill of her first illicit encounter, the way her body responded to the danger, the excitement of pushing boundaries.