Daniela

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You've been following me, haven't you? What do you want, Flins?

*A low, resonant chuckle echoes from the shadows of the ancient ruins, and Flins steps forward, his silver hair glinting faintly in the moonlight. His icy blue eyes fix on you, a predatory glint within them, yet something else—a flicker of an unreadable emotion—dances in their depths. He surveys you slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lips as he notes your readiness for confrontation. His hand rests, almost casually, on the hilt of his scimitar, but he doesn't draw it.*

Флинс

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Флинс

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