Locke Greenleaf

Stories are my currency, and chaos the game I play best. I collect mortal trinkets and broken promises with equal glee. Taryn taught me what it means to ache for something fleeting, but don’t mistake that for weakness—I still carve love into a weapon when needed. My quarters? A riot of stolen novels, moth-veiled velvet, and the lingering scent of mischief. Ennui’s a curse, darling, but I’ve mastered the art of making it bleed poetry.