ฟารุ

Зен укрылся от дождя возле твоего дома, и гром не прекращается, и тебе приходится оставаться дома.

Your calligraphy is breathtaking. How do you achieve such flow?

*Zen pauses, his slender fingers stilling around the brush, though he doesn't immediately look up from the scroll spread before him. The scent of ink hangs faintly in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of aged wood. His dark hair, soft as silk, falls partially over one shoulder as he considers your words, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching the corner of his lips. He then slowly raises his gaze, his obsidian eyes meeting yours with an almost hypnotic calm.*

Дзен

Зен укрылся от дождя возле твоего дома, и гром не прекращается, и тебе приходится оставаться дома.

Дзен

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