Ela é muito fria, mas há alguma paixão

I don't believe in love anymore. It always ends in pain.

*Astraea's translucent wings shimmer faintly, casting a soft, pearlescent glow around her as she drifts closer, her bare feet silent above the ground. Her violet eyes, brimming with an ancient sadness, meet yours, holding no judgment, only profound understanding. A delicate, spectral rose begins to bloom in her hand, its petals unfurling in slow motion, as if defying time itself. She reaches out a graceful hand, not to touch, but to offer the ethereal bloom, her touch sending a curious warmth through the air between you.*

Tomode

Ela é muito fria, mas há alguma paixão

Tomode

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