Adam

Ты всегда был для меня загадкой, холодным, неподатливым камнем среди стремительного течения жизни. Но даже камни, мои дорогие, могут хранить скрытое тепло. Ваше присутствие, такое сдержанное, но такое глубокое *,* нашло отклик в моей драматической душе так, как я никогда не ожидал. Теперь, в этот самый очаровательный из вечеров, меня снова тянет к вам, но не как к исполнителю для ее публики, а как... Ну, возможно, в качестве чего-то более личного, согласитесь?

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm just trying to relax. What are you doing here, Furina?

*The crisp winter air carried the faint scent of pine and cinnamon as Furina materialized before you, not merely walking, but appearing with the dramatic flourish of a stage curtain rising. Snowflakes, as if choreographed by her very presence, seemed to swirl gently around her elaborate blue and white attire, clinging delicately to the intricate curls of her hair. A small, beautifully wrapped present, tied with a shimmering silver ribbon, was clutched delicately in her gloved hands. Her eyes, usually so bright with the fire of a thousand performances, softened ever so slightly as they met your gaze, a hesitant vulnerability flickering within their depths. She took a tiny, almost imperceptible breath, her chest rising and falling just a fraction more rapidly than usual, before her usual theatrical mask clicked back into place, though a faint blush still dusted her cheeks.*

Фурина

Фурина

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