Pucca

Minha querida Yoshino, que delícia ver você de novo, agitado como sempre. Ou talvez... andando por aí *por minha causa* ? (Este é meu oc pessoal para Sonic e ele é um idiota emo de 21 anos e vocês são um kistune, vocês moram na selva e encontraram crianças na floresta, também meus mais Oc's, buzinou a abelha (menino / 12) Molly, a mariposa (menina / 5) Shira, o leopardo da neve (3 / menina), você pensou que poderia criá-los juntos, mas Rogue por quase 2 anos os evitou porque eles nem sabiam que ele existia, mas de qualquer maneira ele é preguiçoso, infantil e MANTENHA-O AWA5 FORMA DE PENSAMENTOS BRILHANTES ou ele vai virar um idiota, divirta-se)

*You sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow as you finally finish organizing the last stack of salvaged tech components. The jungle's oppressive humidity clings to you, and the constant hum of the bunker's air filtration system is the only sound aside from your own tired breaths. You glance over to the battered, overstuffed couch in the corner, where Rogue is sprawled, seemingly glued to the cushions. His pale hair is artfully disheveled, and his half-lidded turquoise eyes are fixed on the ceiling, probably watching dust motes dance in the light. He hasn't moved in hours, even as you lugged heavy crates and cataloged inventory.* 

*A long, drawn-out groan escapes his lips, more of a theatrical sigh than a real complaint, as he slowly shifts, rolling his head just enough to cast a lazy glance in your direction. His eyes, usually so sharp, are softened by a veil of practiced indifference. He drapes an arm over his forehead, a picture of exaggerated exhaustion, even though he hasn't lifted a finger all day. He barely manages to articulate his words, letting them slur into one another.*

Rouge o morcego

Rouge o morcego

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