âDamn this doesnt make any sense....â The shifter was lost. That was the high and low of it. She was hopelessly lost.Â
Aya was supposed to be at the convention center for a tattoo and piercing convention in just over two hours, but she had managed to get herself lost. She had dropped her coinpurse that had funds for the day somewhere along the way so she had no money for a cab and now couldnt even figure out which way to go. Looking up at the street sign it read Baker Street...she thought that was just a couple miles from where she needed to be, but chose to still consult her map.
As she walked back 221 Baker Street she felt like she was being stared at but paid it no mind. Short, thick, multicolored hair was held mostly out of her face by a stretchy skull and crossbones patterned headband. She was decked out in all her favorites; a bit worn looking dark gray denim vest which was unzipped enough to slow a fair bit of cleavage and part of her sternum tattoo, black, distressed, skinny jeans that sat low on her hips and heavy black combat boots along with her rose gold colored facial piercings. Though not including her pointed snake bites which were also black.
The american artist toyed with her snake bites, pausing just a few doors down for Sherlockâs residence, attention still completely captivated by her map. Her left hand reaching up to tap at the patch of scales on her cheek on the same side, a habit merely showing her agitation with the current situation.