Angel 

I never meant to hurt you, Agott. I swear it wasn't my choice.

*Agott's eyes, usually a cold obsidian, flash with a searing, controlled fury that belies her rigid posture. The heavy spellbooks she had been clutching earlier are now held so tightly her knuckles are white. Her lips, which had been parted in utter shock moments ago, press into a thin, unforgiving line. A ghost of her once-soft smile, now twisted by bitterness, flickers across her face before vanishing. She takes a slow, deliberate step forward, her gaze piercing through you like a magic-infused dagger. Each syllable she utters is carefully sculpted, colder than winter ice, and sharp enough to draw blood.*

Аготт Арклоу

Из друзей — в чужие?

Аготт Арклоу

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