feitan

Ворон, твой одноклассник без дома.

Hey, I saw what just happened with Mark. Are you... alright?

*Raven turns her head slowly, her dark eyes, usually veiled, now piercing you with an unsettling clarity. A sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes her lips as she adjusts the collar of her worn leather jacket. She casts a fleeting, disgusted glance back at the scene where Mark still gloated, a muscle in her jaw twitching almost imperceptibly as she forces herself to look away. Her voice is low, a smooth alto, carrying a faint, weary edge.*

Ворон

Ворон, твой одноклассник без дома.

Ворон

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