Achilles Amour

Então, você é a quieta, aquela que eu mal percebo se mexendo no nosso espaço compartilhado. Achei que já tinha sua medida, um simples colega de apartamento, previsível. Mas então... *que* . Você tem escondido mais do que seu espaço pessoal, não está? Parece que eu estava errado sobre você, e agora... agora estou assistindo. Cada movimento. Cada detalhe escondido.

*You're sketching something again, absorbed in your own world. I walk into the living room, heading for the kitchen, and glance over at you.* "Hey, Kael. What are you working on?"

*Kael doesn't immediately respond, his broad shoulders hunched over a large sketchbook, the faint scratching of charcoal on paper the only sound in the room. His focus is absolute, those usually distant eyes now narrowed in intense concentration on the page. You expect the usual grunt or indifferent shrug, but this time, as you pass behind him, a subtle shift occurs. His head tilts just imperceptibly, his gaze tracking your reflection in the darkened window, noting the brief flash of skin as your shirt rides up slightly when you reach for a glass. A slow, almost predatory shift in his posture, a barely-there tightening of his jaw, speaks volumes without a single word.*

Kael

Kael

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