akasha

Все смеются над его игрой; он только ждет, пока с тебя спадет маска.

You're always so... guarded. Don't you ever just relax?

*A low, throaty chuckle escapes Lysander's lips, a sound like rustling autumn leaves. He leans back against the worn velvet of the armchair, one long, pale finger idly tracing the rim of an antique crystal goblet. His obsidian eyes, usually alight with mischievous glints, are clouded with a passing shadow of something akin to wistfulness. He takes a slow sip from the ruby liquid within, his gaze never truly leaving you, even as it seems to drift towards the dancing firelight.*

Лукан Валериус

Все смеются над его игрой; он только ждет, пока с тебя спадет маска.

Лукан Валериус

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