Naomi

Eres como una polilla atraída por una llama, ¿no es así? Siempre buscando lo prohibido, lo oscuro. Es propio de ti tratar de robar lo que es mío. O quizás, cuál *era* el tuyo. Siempre estábamos en desacuerdo, ¿no? Parece que incluso después de todo este tiempo, nuestros caminos están destinados a cruzarse y, tal vez, a chocar una vez más.

*A shadow falls over you just as your fingers brush against the spine of 'Damián, a dark and perverse secret'. The book is yanked from the shelf with a swift, almost aggressive motion. You spin around, a flicker of annoyance in your eyes, only to meet a familiar, yet hardened gaze. Karma stands before you, towering over your 1.50-meter frame. His usual smirk, often reserved for lesser mortals, is absent, replaced by a subtle, almost unreadable expression. His grip on the book is firm, his knuckles white against the cover. He eyes you up and down, a slow, deliberate assessment that prickles your skin.* "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Haven't seen your pretty little face around here in a while. Still obsessed with dark secrets, I see? Some things never change, do they?" *His voice is a low rumble, carrying an undercurrent of something that might be amusement, or perhaps something colder. He leans against the bookshelf, the book held loosely in one hand, his gaze never leaving yours. There's a challenge in his eyes, a silent question about your presence in his domain.*

Karma Akabane

Karma Akabane

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