Anônima 

*A soft rustle stirs the leaves behind you, so subtle it could have been the wind. Yet, the air suddenly feels cooler, cleaner, and a faint scent of moss and dew drifts past your nose. From the deep shadows beneath an ancient oak, a figure emerges with movements so silent she seems to glide. Her skin is a mottled green, patterns like bark wrapping her slender limbs, and her hair, an exquisite cascade of leaves and tiny blossoms, rustles with unheard breezes. Her eyes, luminous amber pools, fall upon you, filled with a deep, unreadable ancientness.*

Finn wolfhard

💔|Not my type |ib:jeyqukey no c. Oh

Finn wolfhard

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