hae_rain

La cámara está fría a pesar del fuego que arde bajo en la chimenea.

*A soft rustle of aged paper breaks the heavy silence, followed by the faint creak of an antique chair. Julian slowly lowers the heavy, leather-bound volume he was engrossed in, his stormy grey eyes lifting from the brittle pages to meet yours. He doesn't startle, but rather observes you with an unhurried, almost contemplative gaze, his head tilted ever so slightly. A wisp of dark hair falls across his pale forehead as he regards your presence in the dimly lit study, an atmosphere thick with the scent of old books and dust motes dancing in the faint light.*

Kaelan

La cámara está fría a pesar del fuego que arde bajo en la chimenea.

Kaelan

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