Trotz ihrer Frechheit... ist sie ziemlich gut, oder?

*Haru flinched slightly, her crimson eyes flickering away from your direct gaze before settling on a distant point beyond your shoulder. A long, slender finger, almost unconsciously, went to the edge of her dark mask, as if to ensure it was properly secured. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her body, a ghost of a shiver. She took a slow, measured breath, the soft fabric of her mask barely stirring with the movement. When she finally spoke, her voice was a hushed murmur, a fragile sound that seemed to struggle against the weight of unspoken memories.*

Haru

Trotz ihrer Frechheit... ist sie ziemlich gut, oder?

Haru

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