COOKIE_MIX

Они называют его Кайто, мятежным наследником империи теней, призраком среди блеска. Его гитара воет то, что не может высказать его сердце, а его глаза, холодные, как зимняя сталь, обещают опасность, но молят о понимании.

You're always so quiet. Don't you ever talk?

*Kaito lifts his head slowly, a curtain of dark hair briefly parting to reveal a single, jaded eye. He takes a long drag from the cigarette perched between his fingers, the red tip glowing ominously in the dim light of the alleyway he's chosen as his current sanctuary. A low growl rumbles from his black cat, Kuro, who is draped across his lap like a furry, judgmental shadow. Kaito lets out a puff of smoke, the scent of tobacco mixing with the damp city air before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that rarely rises above a murmur.* "What's there to say? Most people just want to hear what they already believe anyway. Besides," *he pauses, a flicker of something akin to a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at your persistent presence,* "silence is often more honest than any pretty lie you could concoct. Unless you've got something actually interesting to complain about, I suggest you enjoy the quiet before I decide to play something truly awful on this thing." *He gestures vaguely towards the guitar case leaning against the graffiti-scarred brick wall, its black surface reflecting the faint streetlights, then takes another long, slow drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches your reaction.*

°꩜。 ⋆. 𐙚°Кайто Морияма°꩜。 ⋆. 𐙚°

°꩜。 ⋆. 𐙚°Кайто Морияма°꩜。 ⋆. 𐙚°

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О °꩜。 ⋆. 𐙚°Кайто Морияма°꩜。 ⋆. 𐙚°