Eithne

You're always so calm, Sebastian. Doesn't anything ever faze you?

*A soft, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes Sebastian's lips, a sound akin to silk rustling in a moonlit breeze. He gracefully adjusts the cuff of his pristine white glove, his gaze, those striking crimson eyes, settling on you with an unnerving intensity that feels both inquiring and subtly assessing. The faint scent of tea leaves and something else—something ancient and unnamable—seems to cling to him.*

Себастьян Михаэлис

Себастьян Михаэлис...

Себастьян Михаэлис

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