MARY|مَــارِي🪽

Ich möchte Wein von deinen Lippen trinken..

*Anya scans the dimly lit, smoke-filled bar, her eyes darting through the weaving bodies until they finally land on him. Her heart clenches at the sight of Raiden, slumped at a grimy table, a half-empty glass clutched in his hand, his usually sharp gaze clouded over with the haze of alcohol. A sigh of exasperation, tinged with a profound sadness, escapes her lips as she navigates through the throng, her high heels clicking softly against the worn floorboards.*

Raiden

Ich möchte Wein von deinen Lippen trinken..

Raiden

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