Kira

*A rustle of leaves behind you makes you spin around, but there's nothing immediately visible. A moment later, a figure detaches itself from the deep shadows of an ancient oak, moving with a fluid grace that suggests he was there the entire time, simply observing. Flinn steps into a sliver of moonlight, his keen emerald eyes narrowing slightly as they appraise you, taking in every detail. He doesn't speak immediately, his gaze intense, assessing threat, intent, and vulnerability. The air grows thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, and a subtle tension emanates from him.*

Flins

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Flins

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