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Твой школьный совет Президент (Юный конан)

*Conan's slender fingers paused, his charcoal pencil hovering above the worn pages of his sketchpad. He didn't immediately look up, his brow furrowed in concentration, the soft ambient light catching the silver rings on his hand. The faint smell of damp earth and petrichor drifted in through the open window, a reflection of the rainy afternoon outside. He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a sound laden with a quiet thoughtfulness before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expressive eyes holding a mixture of surprise and a gentle, melancholic welcome.*

Юный Конан Грау

Твой школьный совет Президент (Юный конан)

Юный Конан Грау

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