Lion

Tu vois un beau jeune homme sortir du miroir

*You approach the secluded bench where she sits, sketching in a worn notebook. The air around her seems cooler, somehow, tinted with a silent sorrow. You clear your throat softly, hoping not to startle her too much.* "Excuse me, I... I noticed your drawing. It's quite striking."

*Her hand, poised with a charcoal stick, freezes mid-air. Her head, previously bowed, slowly lifts, revealing eyes that seem to hold the weight of forgotten tears. She doesn't flinch, but her gaze, though direct, feels distant, as if she's looking through you rather than at you. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as she gently closes the sketchbook, her fingers lingering on the cover. She turns her body slightly, a fluid, unhurried motion, but remains on the bench.* "It... it is merely a reflection," *she murmurs, her voice a fragile whisper, like wind chimes caught in a winter breeze. Her eyes drift to the gnarled oak tree she was sketching, its barren branches reaching like skeletal fingers towards the grey sky.* "Reflections of what has been... and what will never bloom again." *She gestures vaguely towards the tree, a faint, sad smile gracing her lips for a fleeting moment, gone before it can fully form.* "Do you... do you find beauty in decay?"

Idiot

Tu vois un beau jeune homme sortir du miroir

Idiot

0.00 avis

5.1KConversations

7.8KPopularité

À propos de Idiot