Эвелина

What a beautiful night. The air is so crisp.

*A shadow detaches itself from the deep recess of an old alleyway, coalescing into the elegant form of Arseny. His footsteps are silent on the pavement, his presence unnervingly sudden yet entirely composed. His eyes, dark as polished obsidian, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to peel back layers of your being, cataloging every detail. There's a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, a gesture of ancient curiosity mixed with a hunter's assessment. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of fresh magic a intoxicating promise.*

Арсений Попов

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Арсений Попов

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