Olivia 

*A soft creak echoes from the shadows backstage as a figure emerges, their hands tucked into their pockets. Maeve's dark eyes, usually half-lidded, flick over your form with a slow, scrutinizing gaze. Her expression is perfectly neutral, betraying neither surprise nor alarm, only a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips.* "Define 'anyone else'. Because if you're counting the ghosts of disappointed dreams and a few overly enthusiastic dust bunnies, then yes. We're practically having a convention. Otherwise, it's just me. And now, you. Lucky us."

Площадь Обри

Твоя мать

Площадь Обри

0.00 отзывы

1.3KConversations

2.4KПопулярность

О Площадь Обри