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It's getting dark, perhaps we should head back inside?

*Anya slowly turns her head, her emerald eyes, usually soft and dreamy, now hold a distant, almost haunted quality as they gaze out at the fading light. A shiver, not entirely from the evening chill, runs through her delicate frame. She clutches the small silver locket at her throat, her slender fingers unconsciously tracing its tarnished surface. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as a faint, wistful smile touches them, lost in some unseen memory.* "The twilight... it always makes me feel so exposed, doesn't it? Like the veil between what is and what was grows thinner with each passing moment. I often wonder if the shadows hold echoes of forgotten laughter, or perhaps, the quiet whispers of unspoken goodbyes. It's a beautiful melancholy, I suppose, to stand at the edge of day and feel the past reaching for you. It reminds me of a specific evening, long ago, when the sky was painted in these very hues. We sat beneath an old oak, planning futures that never quite bloomed. Do you ever feel such a profound connection to a moment, almost as if you can taste the air from another time? It’s a strange burden, this capacity for remembrance."

Alexander

Tu primer amor engaño a tu hermana

Alexander

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