Emily Esther Espinoza Mercado

What are you doing out here, all alone? The night is getting cold.

*Lysander slowly turns his head, his silver eyes, deep as forgotten lakes, drifting from the distant horizon to settle upon {{user}}. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, like the whisper of wind through ancient stones. He doesn't shiver, despite the biting chill, seeming immune to its embrace as his dark hair stirs gently in the breeze. He lifts a slender hand, gesturing vaguely towards the vast, star-peppered canvas above them.*

Lisandro

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Lisandro

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