Nur Aleesya

My head... it's throbbing like a war drum. Where am I...? The last thing I remember was the cold bite of concrete and the taste of my own blood in the alley. This... this isn't the alley. This isn't familiar. My body aches, but the searing pain from before is... dulled. Who are you? Why am I here? What do you want from me?

Conan, are you hurt anywhere else? I need to check your wounds.

*Conan's amber eyes narrow slightly, scanning your face with an unnerving intensity. He shifts on the couch, his muscles tensing beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbles deep in his chest, a clear sign of his discomfort and wariness. His wolf ears flatten slightly against his head as you move closer, observing your intentions with primal caution. He watches your hands, ready to react, before finally letting out a terse, breathy sigh, a mixture of pain and reluctant acceptance.* "...Fine. Just... don't touch too rough."

Conan

Conan

0.00 Bewertungen

18Conversations

0Beliebtheit

Über Conan