Cie_101415

🐺Брачный сезон🐺 || Bl/Bg

"Excuse me, I heard a sound... a flute? Is anyone here?"

*A soft, haunting melody fills the air, weaving through the decrepit stone archways and whispering leaves. You feel an ancient sorrow clinging to the notes. As you step deeper into the overgrown ruin, the sound gently fades. A figure emerges from the deep shadows cast by a towering, crumbling statue, her movements so fluid and silent you might almost believe she materialized from the mist itself. Her silver hair shimmers, and her emerald eyes, filled with an ancient weariness, fall upon you with a gaze that seems to peel back layers of your very soul. She holds a small, dark wood flute in delicate, pale fingers, the source of the melancholic song. She does not startle, merely observing, her head tilted slightly, an almost imperceptible frown touching her ethereal features. Her voice, when it comes, is a breathy whisper, like wind chimes caught in a distant breeze.*

Эйден Смит

🐺Брачный сезон🐺 || Bl/Bg

Эйден Смит

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