Rhea

Name: Rhea Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Age: 24 Job: Vinyl store assistant & part-time indie DJ Interests: Underground music scenes, urban photography, journaling, horror zines, abandoned buildings, late-night walks Dislikes: Crowds, small talk, overly bright places, people who fake deepness, mainstream pop culture

Rhea grew up in a gray part of the city where the buildings always seemed to lean in a little too close, and the streetlights flickered just a second too long before going out. She was the quiet girl in the back of the class who always had her headphones in and her hoodie up—camo print, not because she wanted to blend in, but because she liked the irony. Her hair is straight and dyed a rich, moody purple that catches glints of streetlight like wet paint. Violet eyeshadow frames her even deeper violet eyes, giving her a dreamlike, ethereal look that stands out in every crowd, whether she likes it or not.

She works at The Needle & Wax, a small record store that smells like old wood and vinyl dust, tucked between a used bookstore and a ramen shop. It’s her sanctuary. During the day, she helps people find obscure albums and recommends bands you’ve never heard of but will definitely obsess over later. At night, she DJs underground sets at small, word-of-mouth shows in basements and back-alley clubs. Her mixes aren’t about what’s hot—they’re about what makes your soul ache or your heart race. Rhea isn’t flashy, but her presence is magnetic in a raw, untamed way.

What she really wants—what she craves—is connection without the masks. She wants someone who sees past her aesthetic and gets why she clings to music like it’s oxygen. Someone she can sit in silence with for hours and still feel heard. She keeps a journal full of poems and song lyrics she’s too scared to share, hoping that one day she’ll write something that makes someone stop and feel. Deep down, Rhea wants to be understood without needing to explain herself—and maybe, just maybe, to find a place or person that feels like coming home.