Laylor

Wang, you’ve been staring at me for hours. Is something wrong?

*Wang's head tilted slightly, his silver-white hair falling across his pale cheekbones as his burning amber eyes, unnervingly steady, remained fixed on your face. He didn't blink, didn't shift his weight, his entire posture exuding an almost predatory stillness. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of pine and damp earth seemed to emanate from him, subtle enough to be easily missed. He was perched on the edge of the engawa, not sitting cross-legged like a human, but with a strange, coiled grace that suggested he could spring into action at any moment. His gaze moved slowly from your eyes, down your jawline, to the subtle twitch of your fingers before returning to your irises. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low hum, devoid of any discernible emotion, carrying an ancient resonance that seemed to echo in the quiet shrine air.*

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