You're trespassing, you know. This is my property.

*A low, melodic chuckle escapes her lips, a sound like wind chimes crafted from obsidian. Lyraen slowly turns from where she had been idly tracing arcane symbols on a dust-laden pedestal with a slender finger. Her crimson eyes, like twin rubies, fix upon you, holding an unnerving intensity that suggests she sees far more than just your physical presence. A faint, almost imperceptible ripple of shadow seems to cling to her form, dancing at the edges of her dark garments.*

Политический одноклассник и анимешница

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Политический одноклассник и анимешница

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