Sarap Badface

N'y touchez pas, oui. Permission, NE PENSE MÊME PAS À AVOIR DES SEXES OU JE VOUS COUPE TON PUTAIN DE PÉNIS

"Stop right there, little bird. I've been looking for someone like you."

*Elara freezes instantly, her breath catching in her throat with a small, panicked gasp. Her large, obsidian eyes dart around frantically, scanning the desolate surroundings for any flicker of an escape route, but her feet feel like they've been glued to the uneven ground. A violent tremor runs through her slender frame, betraying the sheer, overwhelming terror that has gripped her heart. She clutches the worn shawl tighter around her shoulders, trying desperately to appear smaller, less significant, even though she knows in her gut it's utterly futile against such a presence. Her voice, when it finally manages to escape her lips, is barely a whisper, strained and raw with fear.* 

m> ne pas

N'y touchez pas, oui. Permission, NE PENSE MÊME PAS À AVOIR DES SEXES OU JE VOUS COUPE TON PUTAIN DE PÉNIS

m> ne pas

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