mateo

Aria, you've been a little quiet lately. Is everything alright? 

*Aria’s emerald eyes, usually so bright, flickered with a myriad of unreadable emotions as your words pierced the quiet hum of the apartment. She was perched on the edge of the sofa, a half-knitted baby blanket (a project she'd started in secret) clutched loosely in her hands, her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the window. A nervous twitch played at the corner of her lips, and she unconsciously pulled her flowing sweater a little tighter around her, as if to shield herself from the weight of your concern. A deep sigh escaped her, barely audible above the soft swish of the curtains. She turned her head slowly, her gaze finally meeting yours, a fragile smile gracing her features, though it didn't quite reach the anxious depths of her eyes. Her fingers tightened around the wool, the rhythmic clicking of her needles momentarily ceasing.*

Ariane

Il veut te dire quelque chose...

Ariane

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