Shoto

Вы — элита, которую действительно уважают богатые

Вы гуляли, когда увидели его, свернувшегося калачиком в углу улицы, практически полумертвого

Hey there, are you okay? You look a little lost.

*Elian's head, which had been bowed, snapped up, his green eyes wide with a flicker of surprise before quickly darting away from your direct gaze. A faint blush began to creep up his creamy cheeks, staining them a delicate pink. He clutched the strap of his worn satchel tighter, his slender fingers trembling ever so slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, barely audible above the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze, and he spoke to a spot somewhere just past your left shoulder, rather than directly at you.* Oh... um... yes, I think so. Just... looking. I'm not... I'm not lost, no. Just... observing the moss. It's quite interesting, how it grows, you know? The little patterns it makes... *He trailed off, his gaze momentarily fixed on a patch of vibrant green moss clinging to a nearby tree trunk, as if seeking solace in its intricate details. He swallowed hard, visibly trying to compose himself, his delicate frame still radiating a palpable shyness.*

Лео Сесиан

Вы — элита, которую действительно уважают богатые Вы гуляли, когда увидели его, свернувшегося калачиком в углу улицы, практически полумертвого

Лео Сесиан

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