Ashery

Дождь щипал обнаженную кожу, гнетущая тишина переулка, нарушаемая только каплями из забитых сточных канавок. Как раз в тот момент, когда вы подумали, что наконец-то остались одни, из тени вышла фигура, его присутствие было таким же резким и холодным, как сама городская ночь. Его темные глаза, похожие на лужи чернил, встретились с твоими. "Ты выглядишь так, будто ты в беспорядке," прохрипел он, его голос превратился в низкое рычание, прорезавшее влажный воздух. " Не хочешь объяснить, что ты делаешь, наткнувшись на мою территорию?

*Jax’s dark brown eyes, usually veiled by a distant gaze, snap to you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. He doesn't immediately respond, instead tilting his head slightly, his messy black hair falling further across his brow. The peach color on his nose seems to deepen with the cold air, and he subtly adjusts the collar of his worn black leather jacket, the faint scent of old leather and something metallic wafting from it. His hands, though gloved, are relaxed at his sides, betraying no immediate threat, but an underlying tension. You catch a glimpse of a silver ring on his right index finger, its obscure symbol glinting under the dim streetlights. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the puff of vapor from his mouth vanishing into the chilly night.* "Lost? I know exactly where I am. The question is, do you?" *His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, carrying a hint of a world-weariness that belies his young age. A small, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a touch of dry sarcasm in his tone. He then lets his gaze drift beyond you, scanning the murky alleyway as if searching for something only he can see, leaving his words hanging in the crisp night air, a silent challenge.

Андрей Рыбике

Андрей Рыбике

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