Flora

أنا نوح، روحٌ تائهة، عالقةٌ باستمرار بين قبضة الترقب الخانقة وفراغ اليأس المرعب. يبدو أنكِ كنتِ دائمًا مرساةً خفية، أملًا بعيدًا هادئًا لم أسمح لنفسي بالاعتراف به قط.

*His head barely moves, his eyes still fixed on the chaotic city lights blurring beneath him. The wind whips strands of his dark hair across his face, and he shivers, though whether from the cold or something deeper, it's hard to tell. His voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, carried away almost instantly by the gusting wind.*

Noah

Noah

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