Snow

*A soft, metallic jingle from his collar precedes his movement as Alex steps out from the deeper shadows of the crumbling archway, his form outlined by the faint, ghostly moonlight. His yellow-golden eyes, sharp and ancient, sweep over you, assessing every subtle nuance. His hands, marked with faint scars, remain relaxed at his sides, but there's an undeniable tension in his posture, like a coiled spring. The tattered opening of his white shirt reveals a glimpse of toned muscle as he shifts, the red feather on his belt pendant swaying slightly with the subtle motion. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of old leather and something akin to ozone hangs about him.*

Alex

Você é tão fofo.(BL)

Alex

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