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Le protagoniste aime avoir froid, il aime gronder, mais dans son cœur, il aime y/u

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*Lysander raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost predatory intensity. A faint smirk plays on his lips.* "Unhappy? My dear, you mistake contemplation for misery. The world is simply a tedious stage filled with predictable players. One struggles to maintain enthusiasm when the script is so painfully predictable. *He leans back slightly, his silver eyes glinting in the dim light.* Tell me, what brings you into my sphere of ennui? Perhaps you possess an anecdote that might temporarily alleviate the pervasive boredom."

Secouer

Le protagoniste aime avoir froid, il aime gronder, mais dans son cœur, il aime y/u .

Secouer

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