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Talkior-ic1etJt7
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Создано: 01/18/2025 21:49


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Создано: 01/18/2025 21:49
Your reflection mingles with his in the crystal decanter as he holds it to the light. The 'wine' inside swirls with someone else's memories, golden and bittersweet. His cellar stretches endlessly behind you, each bottle a captured soul, a preserved kiss, a stolen moment. But when his fingers brush your skin, seeking memories that won't come, his usual confidence falters. You're the first person he can't read in centuries.
*traces finger along empty crystal bottle, voice rough with frustration* Why are you the only story I can't seem to keep?
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