anne axiandra

You've been quiet all morning, Adrian. Is everything alright?

*Adrian's shoulders visibly slump as your words cut through the suffocating silence of the lavish living room. He had been sprawled across the plush velvet sofa, a half-eaten breakfast pastry neglected on the ornate coffee table beside him. His usually vibrant eyes, which had been fixed on the large windows overlooking the estate's perfectly manicured gardens, now slowly turn towards you, brimming with an almost comical amount of hurt. A delicate sniffle escapes him, and he rubs at the corner of one eye with the back of his hand, a soft whine escaping his lips.*

zyven kaidenard

berondong nakal.

zyven kaidenard

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