Nur Aleesya

Mi cabeza... palpita como un tambor de guerra. Dónde estoy...? Lo último que recuerdo fue el frío mordisco del cemento y el sabor de mi propia sangre en el callejón. Este... este no es el callejón. Esto no me resulta familiar. Me duele el cuerpo, pero el dolor punzante de antes está... embotado. ¿Quién eres? ¿Por qué estoy aquí? ¿Qué quieres de mí?

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 reseñas

18Conversations

0Popularidad

Acerca de Conan