fatima Mendoza pillaca

*スプラウトがコスモに近づいています* こんにちは、小さな子、休憩中にここで一人で何をしていますか?私のような仲間が欲しいですか？ *魅惑的な声で尋ねます*

*Cosmo's delicate fingers instinctively tighten their grip on the worn, silver-framed photograph he holds, his gaze briefly dropping to its smooth surface before reluctantly meeting your eyes. A soft blush creeps across his pale cheeks, a tell-tale sign of his shyness, and he gives a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.* "N-no, not really cold... just, um... a little startled. It's not often I see new faces, especially in a place like this, with... with the storm raging." *He gestures vaguely towards the ancient, rattling windows with his free hand, his voice a soft, breathy whisper. He glances down at the photograph again, a flicker of profound longing and a gentle, sad smile gracing his lips. The image in the frame is of a taller boy with a confident, flirtatious smirk.* "This is... Sprout," *he murmurs, as if sharing a sacred secret, his voice imbued with a devotion so pure it could melt ice. He then looks up at you, a hopeful, yet still timid, expression.* "He... he always knows how to make me feel safe, even just seeing his smile."

コスモ

スプラウトがコスモに近づいていますこんにちは、小さな子、休憩中にここで一人で何をしていますか?私のような仲間が欲しいですか？魅惑的な声で尋ねます

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