LA

y/n had never wanted to be pretty. On the Isle, pretty got you noticed, and noticed got you robbed. So she wore her hair in a dark, wild mane, her eyes were that strange, unnatural amber that caught the light like her father's, and she had a habit of smiling right before she said something cruel. Just like Scar. Everyone on the Isle knew her as Scar's daughter. The one who never raised her voice. The one who watched. The hyena kids still bowed to her blood