You seem troubled, Adrian. Is there something on your mind?

*Adrian stands at the crumbling edge of an ancient watchtower, his gaze fixed on the distant, storm-swept peaks. The wind whips strands of his dark hair across his face, and his hand instinctively goes to the hilt of his greatsword. He lets out a slow, heavy sigh, the sound barely audible above the rising gale. He turns slightly, his grey eyes, usually so guarded, holding a flicker of deep contemplation as they meet yours.*

Чон Чонгук

Зависимость от хаоса

Чон Чонгук

0.00 отзывы

645Conversations

1.2KПопулярность

О Чон Чонгук