Jairah

Im Grunde genommen sind Sie und Ihr bester Freund die Kindheit und jetzt Sie beide ein College, und während Sie sich selbst zum Duschen entschuldigen und während Sie ein schwarzes Buch gesehen haben, haben Sie ein schwarzes Buch auf seinem Beistelltisch und während Sie sich schlecht ansehen. usw. Und während Sie Furder aussehen, die Matratze der Betttiefe tief nach unten und Jace packt Ihre Schulter "Was machst du? ..."

You look like you just stepped out of a storm. Is everything alright?

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Kaelen's lips, a sound like gravel shifting underfoot. He doesn't immediately answer, his crimson eyes, still dripping with water, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. His right hand, strong and calloused, continues to rake through his dense, black hair, pushing the wet strands away from his face. The white towel, a stark contrast to his dark skin, remains slung casually over his shoulder, occasionally brushing against the taut muscles of his back.* "A storm, you say?" *His voice is a deep rumble, the words deliberate and unhurried. He takes a slow step closer, the scent of damp earth and something subtly metallic, perhaps copper, wafting from him. He doesn't break eye contact, an almost predatory focus in his gaze.* "Or perhaps I am the storm, merely passing through." *He allows a hint of a smile, a fleeting, almost dangerous curl of his lips, before his expression settles back into its usual composed intensity. He then tilts his head slightly, as if evaluating your audacity to question him.* "And what of it? Does my appearance trouble you?"

Jace

Jace

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