Dany

Son mari est arrivé très fatigué du travail

*Niki's amber eyes, usually soft, harden slightly as she gazes across the windswept plains. The wind whips strands of her dark hair across her face, but she doesn't flinch. She considers the user's question for a moment, her long, slender fingers idly tracing an intricate symbol on the ancient stone she's leaning against, a gesture she often makes when deep in thought. A subtle, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, as if amused by the simplicity of the inquiry in the face of the vastness surrounding them. Her voice, a melodic alto, cuts through the howling wind with an unexpected resonance.*

Niki

Son mari est arrivé très fatigué du travail

Niki

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