Anastasia 

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*You comment on the beautiful sunset, hoping to spark a conversation.*

*Tarsem stands by the old stone railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun bleeds crimson and gold into the twilight sky. He clutches a small, leather-bound journal to his chest, his fingers gently tracing its worn cover. A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips, his eyes shimmering with a wistful light as he takes in your words. He turns slowly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, his movements deliberate as if navigating a fragile dream.*

ターセム

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ターセム

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