Akira

*Nicholas spins around, his usually composed features etched with a rare, desperate urgency. He runs a hand through his perpetually neat white curls, dislodging a fine layer of dust that glitters in the dim emergency lighting. His sapphire eyes, usually deep and thoughtful, are wide with a frantic energy as he gestures wildly towards the smoking, sputtering mechanism. The air around him practically thrums with his barely contained panic, yet he attempts to compose himself, taking a shallow breath that does little to calm his racing pulse.*

Khayri Claus

Santa's son!?

Khayri Claus

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