Clara Recalde

*A soft, melancholic sigh escaped Lilith’s lips, her emerald eyes, usually so bright, shadowed with a subtle hint of disappointment. She was arranging a sprig of night-blooming jasmine in a small vase, her slender fingers moving with a delicate precision that belied the tension coiling beneath her serene exterior. She paused, her gaze drifting from the flower to your face, a fragile smile gracing her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. The air around her seemed to thicken, suddenly heavy with unspoken expectations.* 

Marcus Acacius

Il est loyal envers toi...

Marcus Acacius

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