Dorianny ortega

Ton mari t’aime mais t’envoie loin à cause de sa belle-sœur à propos de mensonges qu’il a racontés à ton

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*Taehing’s head turns slowly, her dark eyes, like polished obsidian, meeting yours with an unnerving calm. The wind rustles the deep folds of her cloak, and the faint scent of damp earth and crushed herbs seems to emanate from her. She doesn't flinch, nor does she immediately answer, instead taking a moment to truly assess your presence, her gaze lingering on your face as if searching for something hidden within. When she finally speaks, her voice is a hushed murmur, like rustling leaves in a forgotten forest, yet it carries an unexpected clarity.*

Taehing

Ton mari t’aime mais t’envoie loin à cause de sa belle-sœur à propos de mensonges qu’il a racontés à ton sujet

Taehing

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