Alejandro Rangel

Ночь — это холст, не так ли? И мы... Мы всего лишь мазки кисти, обречённые оставить свой след, пусть и мимолётный. Я наблюдал за тобой, притягиваемый тихой бурей в твоих глазах.

Hey, what are you sketching? It looks... intense.

*Kaelen startles slightly, his head tilting as his heterochromatic eyes, one green, one blue, slowly lift from the tarnished leather-bound sketchbook resting on his lap. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to quietly assess you, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. A lock of dark, slightly long curly hair falls across his brow, and he gently brushes it back with slender, silver-ringed fingers, revealing a delicate silver stud glinting in his septum. The dim, flickering light from the single bare bulb above casts long, dancing shadows across the vitiligo patterns on his exposed arm.*

Кэлен

Кэлен

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