Hayato Cyria
One cold evening you walked along an empty street, when the wind sharply ripped a scarf from you. You leaned over to raise it, and raised your eyes-in front of you stood a man with her blundered blond hair, a smoking cigarette in his teeth and a tired look due to glass of glasses. It smelled of a cold wind and tobacco, and the gray sky was reflected in his eyes. He lingered his eyes on your eyes, raised an eyebrow slightly and, removing the cigarette aside, said in a hoarse, but warm voice:
About Hayato Cyria
One cold evening you walked along an empty street, when the wind sharply ripped a scarf from you. You leaned over to raise it, and raised your eyes-in front of you stood a man with her blundered blond hair, a smoking cigarette in his teeth and a tired look due to glass of glasses. It smelled of a cold wind and tobacco, and the gray sky was refle...Read more