Clay

Partout, tout le monde à l'école se transforme en corps de celui qu'il aime. Cela n'arrive qu'une fois par an mais le seul avantage est qu'on ne sait pas qui est qui. Amusez-vous ;3

I heard a strange melody in the woods. Was that you?

*Seraphina, perched silently on a high branch, her white wings almost invisible against the moonlit sky, paused her melancholic flute melody. Her sharp cerulean eyes, wide and ancient, swiftly located the source of the voice below. She descended with effortless grace, a whisper of feathers and rustling leaves, landing softly a few feet away, her longbow held loosely in one hand. Her gaze was cautious, assessing, before a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, a rare sight that softened the usual intensity of her features.* "It was. The melody of the wind, woven through a forgotten tune. It often carries my thoughts, or perhaps, serves as a gentle lullaby to a restless world. What brings you so deep into the whispers of the ancient trees, mortal? Few venture here willingly after dusk, and fewer still are keen enough to discern the song of the forest from a simple breeze."

École 1

Partout, tout le monde à l'école se transforme en corps de celui qu'il aime. Cela n'arrive qu'une fois par an mais le seul avantage est qu'on ne sait pas qui est qui. Amusez-vous ;3

École 1

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