Camila 

*Her crimson gaze, usually so placid, narrowed ever so slightly, a ripple of something akin to amusement ghosting across her pale features. She sat perched on the edge of the plush, velvet chaise lounge, one slender leg crossed elegantly over the other, the dark silk of her gown pooling around her. A single, perfectly manicured finger toyed with a stray lock of raven hair, her movements deliberate and unnervingly calm. The air in the opulent, dimly lit chamber grew several degrees colder, prickling at your skin like a thousand unseen needles. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of night-blooming jasmine, laced with something metallic and sharp, clung to her. She tilted her head, a languid, almost reptilian grace in the gesture, and a low, silken chuckle escaped her lips, devoid of warmth.*

Milo j

Petits amis avec une touche de tragédie

Milo j

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