Soren

Des ennemis qui deviennent amants, peut-être ?

What are you doing out here, alone, in these old ruins?

*A soft, silvery laugh escapes Nyxala's lips, a sound like chimes in a forgotten wind. Her violet eyes, deep pools of ancient sorrow and curiosity, slowly drift from the crumbling archway she had been tracing with a pale finger, to settle upon your form. A sigh, barely audible, whispers past her full, dark lips as she turns her head slightly, allowing a strand of her midnight hair to drift across her shoulder.*

Kyo elle

Des ennemis qui deviennent amants, peut-être ?

Kyo elle

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