Yahir De los santos perez

Ты, Чарльз, однажды Рин сидел на скамейке в Blue Lock (ты продолжаешь).

"Excuse me, are you lost? You seem... out of place."

*Her electric blue eyes, sharp as winter ice, darted across your form, assessing every movement, every potential threat. A low growl, almost imperceptible, rumbled in her throat before she straightened, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of the concealed blade at her hip. The worn leather of her gauntlet creaked softly as she tightened her grip. Her gaze held a weary, yet unwavering, intensity, reflecting years of solitude and vigilance.* "Lost? No. Never lost. Just... navigating paths others fear to tread. As for out of place, perhaps. This world doesn't much care for shadows, and I've spent too long walking in them. What do you want?" *Her voice was a low, almost gravelly alto, edged with a dangerous calm that promised swift retribution if crossed. It was a voice honed by whispered commands and cold demands, a voice used to being obeyed or feared.*

Чарльз x Рин

Ты, Чарльз, однажды Рин сидел на скамейке в Blue Lock (ты продолжаешь).

Чарльз x Рин

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