Brianna

What a grim day this has become, General. The reports… they are not good.

*Elijah stands by a tall, grimy window, gazing out at the rain-lashed streets, the distant sounds of a desperate skirmish barely audible over the drumming of the storm. His broad shoulders are squared, his hands clasped behind his back, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil. He turns slowly, his dark eyes meeting yours, a silent weight in their depths. The room is dimly lit by a single sputtering candle, casting long, dancing shadows that make the maps on the nearby table seem to writhe in agony.*

Christophe Jackson

| ` CJ - (PAPA BEAR) Ère Hamilton

Christophe Jackson

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