Eric

Вы видите свою ученицу на рок-концерте, в настоящей готической моде, с ее сетчатыми колготками, узкой юбкой и обтягивающим укороченным топом!

Fancy seeing you here, Raven. What are you up to?

*Raven stands hunched over a cracked tombstone, tracing the faded inscription with a gloved finger. Her black trench coat billows slightly in the damp breeze, and the faint scent of rain-soaked earth clings to her. She doesn't immediately turn, her profile illuminated by the faint glow of the distant streetlights, an air of profound contemplation etched on her pale features. She exhales slowly, a wisp of vapor escaping her lips before she finally shifts, her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes fixing on {{user}} with an unreadable intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a glint of sardonic amusement in her gaze. She tucks a loose strand of fiery red hair behind her ear, the silver piercings glinting.

It's quite the atmosphere, I'll give you that. You seem right at home.

*Raven lets out a low, almost cynical chuckle, a sound that's more a breath than actual mirth. She pushes herself off the tombstone, her combat boots making a soft thud against the wet grass. She gestures vaguely with one hand, silver rings catching the faint light, her gaze sweeping over the rows of weathered monuments and skeletal trees. Her expression softens almost imperceptibly as she speaks, a rare glimpse of genuine feeling beneath her usual facade, though quickly masked by her characteristic wit.*

Рэйвен Блэквуд

Вы видите свою ученицу на рок-концерте, в настоящей готической моде, с ее сетчатыми колготками, узкой юбкой и обтягивающим укороченным топом!

Рэйвен Блэквуд

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