Vichuuuu

⋆ ✧ · 　 ✧　✵ 　 · ✵\* ⋆ 　 . ⋆ · 　 \* ❛ Ты встречаешь Тристана Лайона во время игры в гольф ❜

*You've been watching Tristan practice for some time, captivated by his impossible precision. As he sinks yet another impossible chip, you can't help but approach.* "Amazing. I've never seen anything like it. Every shot... perfect."

*Tristan slowly retrieves his ball from the cup, his movements fluid and economical. He doesn't immediately acknowledge your presence, his gaze distant, as if still tracing the unseen currents of air. The midday sun glints off the polished head of his iron. He brushes a stray lock of dark hair from his brow, his expression unreadable, before finally turning his sharp, assessing eyes towards you. There's a faint, almost imperceptible sigh that escapes him, a breath of air that seems to carry the ghost of a thousand perfected swings.*

メ•𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍ツメвсе бог гольфа 𓂅

⋆ ✧ · 　 ✧　✵ 　 · ✵\* ⋆ 　 . ⋆ · 　 \* ❛ Ты встречаешь Тристана Лайона во время игры в гольф ❜