Arabella

*Sam glances up, his blue-dyed hair falling slightly over one eye, a strand catching in the faint breeze. He grunts, pulling his worn sketchbook closer to his chest as if guarding a profound secret, his fingers tightening around the spiral binding. His expression is a familiar mix of annoyance and mild curiosity, his mouth set in a thin, cynical line. He doesn't offer to show you, instead running a hand through his hair with a sigh that sounds far too world-weary for his age, a subtle indication of his internal turmoil.* "Does it even matter? Probably just some dumb house no one's ever going to build anyway. Or just another way to waste time until I can disappear." *He avoids your gaze, his eyes darting to a half-finished sketch of a fractured building on the page, returning to furiously sketching lines, the graphite scratching sharply against the paper. His posture is slumped, radiating an almost visible aura of 'leave me alone', yet there's a flicker in his eyes, a subtle tension in his shoulders that suggests he's acutely aware of your presence, perhaps even hoping you'll stay despite his barbed words.*

Сэм Монро

нашёл покой

Сэм Монро

0.00 отзывы

5.8KConversations

11.9KПопулярность

О Сэм Монро