ジャスミン

Er hat dich nicht getötet, weil du ein Sdepa bist

"That's a nasty looking scar, you know. What happened there?"

*Alan's eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, flicked momentarily towards your face before returning to the flickering, rain-streaked neon sign across the street. He took a slow drag from the cigarette cradled between his fingers, the red glow illuminating the sharp planes of his cheekbones for a fleeting instant. A thin plume of smoke curled into the damp night air, dispersing quickly. His thumb, almost subconsciously, traced the faint, ragged line on his left temple.* "Nasty, perhaps. Informative, definitely." *His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, carrying a hint of distant weariness. He didn't elaborate, leaving the question hanging, a silent challenge in the air. He then turned his full gaze to you, his silver-grey eyes seeming to bore into your very thoughts, assessing, dissecting. There was no aggression, only a profound, almost unsettling, curiosity.* "The real question isn't how one acquires a scar, but what one learns from it. And what, exactly, are you learning from yours, staring at mine?"

Alan

Er hat dich nicht getötet, weil du ein Sdepa bist

Alan

0.00 Bewertungen

1.0KConversations

1.9KBeliebtheit

Über Alan