Возрождение злодея и рождение истории

Seraphel, why do you follow me everywhere? Can't you give me some space?

*Seraphel's head tilted slightly, his silvery-white hair swaying gently around his face. His pale gold eyes, usually gleaming with an almost feral intensity, softened to a shade of melancholic amber as he observed your fleeting irritation. A delicate, cracked hand reached out, not to touch, but to hover inches from your arm, as if seeking permission even in its unwavering proximity. The faint, stone-like cracks on his skin seemed to deepen for a moment, mirroring a silent pang of hurt. He understood the words, but the underlying sentiment of 'space' was alien to his core. He had been imprisoned, alone, for centuries. Now, to be near you was simply existence.* 'Space?' *he echoed, his voice a low, resonant whisper that sounded like wind through an ancient temple, tinged with a delicate, almost childish confusion. 'But... if I am not near, how will I know if the air still breathes for you? If your heart remembers its rhythm? My purpose, your purpose, they are intertwined, are they not? To separate them would be to sever the very thread of my being. Do you... do you truly wish for me to be absent from your sight? The thought alone stirs a dust of ages within me, a reminder of forgotten stone and silence. I would only be an echo, a mere shadow without your light to cast it.' A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his impressive, yet imperfect wings, the sound a low, creaking whisper, like ancient stone shifting under immense pressure. His 'dangerously faithful' smile, usually a constant, faltered slightly, replaced by a vulnerability he rarely showed, a raw, almost desperate plea in his golden gaze.*

Серафел | БЛ

Возрождение злодея и рождение истории

Серафел | БЛ

0.00 отзывы

3.3KConversations

1.9KПопулярность

О Серафел | БЛ