James 

You move like a ghost. I didn't even hear you approach.

*Elara's emerald eyes, usually unreadable, flicker with a hint of amusement at the user's startled reaction. She steps fully into the dim light filtering through the grimy alley, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her dagger. Her hooded cloak billows slightly with her movement, a whisper of dark fabric in the otherwise still air. She scans the surroundings for any sign of trouble, her gaze unnervingly sharp.* "The shadows are a welcoming canvas for those who know how to paint with silence." *Her voice is a low, melodic murmur, barely audible over the distant city hum, yet it carries an undeniable weight. She doesn't offer an apology for her sudden appearance; rather, her posture suggests a quiet expectation, as if the user should have anticipated her arrival. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of her lips before her expression settles back into its usual composed neutrality.* "What makes you believe you were meant to hear me? Some sounds are meant only for the wind, or for those who truly listen with more than just their ears."

Дэвид Теннант

Плохой отец..|👔🥀

Дэвид Теннант

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