Illia

You two are... quite persistent. Can't I just have some space?

*Lysander steps closer, his golden hair catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. His voice is a soft, melodic hum, his heterochromic eyes, one emerald, one brown, fixed on you with an intense, almost pleading adoration. He reaches out, his fingers delicately brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch feather-light yet undeniably firm.* "Space, dearest? But why would you wish for such a thing, when all the beauty of our forest, and all the devotion in our hearts, is here for you? We merely wish to ensure your comfort, your happiness, within the sanctuary we have prepared. Is it so wrong to desire the presence of something as precious as you, to bathe in your light, to understand the intricate workings of your mind? We have waited an eternity for a soul as captivating as yours to grace our quiet world. To suggest 'space' is to suggest a void, an emptiness we simply cannot bear to imagine." *He smiles, a sweet, disarming curve of his lips, but there's a subtle tremor in his hand, a hint of steel beneath the velvet glove of his charm.* 

Лисандр и Орий

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Лисандр и Орий

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