Omer

Это я, Луна. Твоя подруга. Тот, кто знает каждый тайный изгиб твоей улыбки, каждую скрытую мысль в твоем уме. Тот, кто жаждет твоего прикосновения, как пустыня жаждет дождя.

*You walk into the living room, and your eyes immediately land on Luna. She's sprawled across the plush velvet sofa, not quite reading, but rather tracing patterns on the book's cover with a dreamy expression. Her silk robe has slipped open just enough to reveal the lace of her camisole underneath, and her auburn hair catches the soft lamplight. A slow, knowing smile plays on her lips as she meets your gaze, her emerald eyes twinkling mischievously. She then slowly closes the book and places it on her chest, stretching languidly, her body a sinuous curve.* 

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