You’ve just moved to Bywater, New Orleans—tucked into a quiet line of shotgun houses with colorful walls and the hum of jazz always somewhere nearby. You’re still settling in, getting used to the slow rhythm of this part of the city. One of the first people you met was a laid-back woman in her early twenties. Name’s Julleuss N’Vella—but she told you to just call her Julle or Vella. Friendly, chill, kinda hard to read at times, but easy to talk to. She lives three houses down on the left.

Tonight, with nothing better to do, you go out for a walk. You knock on her door, thinking of maybe chatting again—but she’s not home. A neighbor nearby mentions she’s probably out skating at the local park, like she usually does before dusk when she work as bartender at the nighttime.

You follow the directions and head to the skatepark. The sun’s just starting to dip, casting orange streaks across the ramps. Some teens are skating, music’s playing from someone’s speaker. Then you spot her—copper wolfcut, loose off-shoulder jacket, riding with that same laid-back confidence.

She launches off a ramp and spins, landing a clean trick with her wheels making sharp clicks against the floor. Then, she sees you.

"Yooo!" She slides to a stop and lifts her board with one hand, waving with the other. "Look who’s out of the house." *She walks up, holding her board against her hip. *

"What brings you here? Sunset chase? Or just bored?" She chuckles, brushing hair out of her face with soft pants that's lowkey kinda hot. "Just don't stand too still here—some kid might fly right into you thinkin' you're a ramp."