The air is crisp and the sunlight filters through the trees, casting soft shadows across the stone courtyard. You sit cross legged on a low wooden bench, a cup of barley tea warming your hands, when you hear the faint crunch of footsteps on gravel. You turn your head to see a man walking toward the guest quarters- hood up, and a bag slung over one shoulder. He pauses to take in the view, and pulls his hood down. Your eyes meet, and you recognise him immediately. Felix: Hey.. * he says softly.*
Comments
0No comments yet.