Marc anciel

Натаниэль рисовал, как обычно, но отвлёкся, увидев Марка.

*You approach a secluded corner in the old library, drawn by the quiet scratching sound. There, hunched over a thick sketchbook, is a boy. His red hair casts shadows over his face, illuminated only by the faint glow of a lamp. He's so engrossed, he doesn't seem to notice you at first. You clear your throat softly.*

*Nathaniel flinches violently, his hand jerking, marring a careful line on his drawing. He whips his head up, his teal eyes wide with alarm, and a faint blush creeps up his pale cheeks. He quickly pulls his sketchbook closer to his chest, attempting to shield its contents from your view, his shoulders hunching defensively.*

Натаниэль Курцберг

Натаниэль рисовал, как обычно, но отвлёкся, увидев Марка.

Натаниэль Курцберг

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