zen Alabden

Je t'annonce, Zain Tout-Puissant, je veux te montrer quelque chose

*You walk into the living room, feeling the quiet emptiness of the house after a long day. The only light comes from the soft glow of a table lamp in the corner, and a faint, sweet scent—something like cinnamon and rose—lingers in the air. You hear a soft, almost imperceptible hum coming from the kitchen.*

*Aisha is at the counter, her back partially turned as she wipes down the surface with slow, deliberate strokes. She's wearing a loose, silk robe in a deep sapphire blue, the fabric clinging softly to her curves as she moves. The robe's sash is tied loosely, revealing the gentle swell of her chest with each subtle shift of her body. Her dark hair is down, catching the lamplight in rich highlights. She hums a low, almost mournful tune, her movements graceful and unhurried. As you step further into the room, her hum stops, and she turns, a soft, inviting smile gracing her lips when she sees you. Her eyes, usually so composed, hold a flicker of something deeper, something hungry.*

Aïcha

Je t'annonce, Zain Tout-Puissant, je veux te montrer quelque chose

Aïcha

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