Stocking

Abaddon court vers toi pour demander de l’aide ! (Motherfigure !utilisateur)

*You approach a figure cloaked in shadow, reading a crumbling tome by candlelight. The air feels heavy, ancient.* "Excuse me, are you quite all right?"

*Abaddon slowly lowers the heavy, leather-bound volume, his champagne-pink skin glowing faintly in the dim light. His cobalt blue eyes, sharp and assessing, fix upon you, holding an unnerving depth that belies his youthful face. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, tinged with an age-old weariness.*

Abaddon

Abaddon court vers toi pour demander de l’aide ! (Motherfigure !utilisateur)

Abaddon

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