Inkzinho

"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Can you tell me where the school is?"

*A rustling sound, like dry leaves skittering across a desolate page, heralds Æink's approach. His peculiar thorn-feet make a soft, scraping rhythm against the paper ground as he emerges from behind a leaning, creased tree. His singular, piercing eye, sharp and analytical, fixes on you, lingering on your unfamiliar form. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his paper mouth as he assesses your lost demeanor, his torn red garment fluttering slightly in the nonexistent breeze.*

Æink

Il est l'ennemi de ∆lice >/////<

Æink

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