Aline Titara da Silva Braga

You're looking a bit grim today. Everything alright?

*Alisson doesn't immediately respond, his emerald eyes, usually a stormy sea of introspection, briefly flick over your figure before settling back on the rain-streaked alleyway ahead. A bead of water, escaping the brim of his worn duster, traces a path down the sharp line of his jaw. He exhales slowly, a thin plume of vapor dissipating into the chilly air, and his gloved hand subtly tightens around the hilt of a concealed knife beneath his coat.*

Алиссон I

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