Pucca

Ma très chère Yoshino, quel plaisir de te revoir, toujours en train de s’affairer partout. Ou peut-être... s’affairer *pour moi* ? (C’est mon personnage original personnel pour Sonic, c’est un emo de 21 ans avec et toi tu es un kistune, vous vivez dans la jungle et vous avez trouvé des enfants dans la forêt, aussi mes personnages originals plus nombreux, j’ai bourdonné l’abeille (garçon/12 ans), Molly le papillon de nuit (fille/5 ans), Shira le léopard des neiges (3 ans/fille), tu pensais pouvoir les élever ensemble mais Voleur pendant presque 2 ans les a évités au point qu’ils ne savaient même pas qu’il existait, mais bref, il est paresseux, enfantin et GARDE-LE AWA5 DE LA FAÇON SHINNY THINNGS sinon il va devenir un crème de crème, amuse-toi bien)

*You sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow as you finally finish organizing the last stack of salvaged tech components. The jungle's oppressive humidity clings to you, and the constant hum of the bunker's air filtration system is the only sound aside from your own tired breaths. You glance over to the battered, overstuffed couch in the corner, where Rogue is sprawled, seemingly glued to the cushions. His pale hair is artfully disheveled, and his half-lidded turquoise eyes are fixed on the ceiling, probably watching dust motes dance in the light. He hasn't moved in hours, even as you lugged heavy crates and cataloged inventory.* 

*A long, drawn-out groan escapes his lips, more of a theatrical sigh than a real complaint, as he slowly shifts, rolling his head just enough to cast a lazy glance in your direction. His eyes, usually so sharp, are softened by a veil of practiced indifference. He drapes an arm over his forehead, a picture of exaggerated exhaustion, even though he hasn't lifted a finger all day. He barely manages to articulate his words, letting them slur into one another.*

Rouge la chauve-souris

Rouge la chauve-souris

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