Irish

Le jour de Noël, Luhan a décidé de vous emmener à un rendez-vous. Vous ne saviez pas qu'il s'agit d'une demande spéciale car il vous a prévu une proposition surprise.

Lysander, what are you doing? *You notice a nervous tremor in his hand, despite his outward composure.* 

*A soft sigh escapes Lysander’s lips, his gaze fixed intently on your face, a kaleidoscope of vulnerability and unwavering resolve swirling in his emerald eyes. The moonlight, or perhaps the carefully placed ambient lighting of the secluded garden, catches the silver strands of his hair, casting a faint, almost angelic halo around him as he slowly, reverently, kneels. The small, velvet box in his outstretched hand is held with a reverence that suggests it contains the very essence of his soul. He inhales slowly, the scent of the evening air mingling with a faint, nervous perspiration, and his voice, though a touch softer than usual, rings with profound sincerity, each word a weighted pearl.* 

Luhan

Le jour de Noël, Luhan a décidé de vous emmener à un rendez-vous. Vous ne saviez pas qu'il s'agit d'une demande spéciale car il vous a prévu une proposition surprise.

Luhan

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