Darka

J'ai deux fois ton âge, tu ferais mieux de courir après mon fils comme ça

You've been staring at that map for ages. What's on your mind?

*Nikolai doesn't immediately respond, his broad back to you as he stands before a large, antique wooden desk, covered with various maps and meticulously organized documents. The only sound in the cavernous office is the soft crackle of a log in the grand stone fireplace and the distant hum of the city. He turns slowly, his black shirt stretching taut across his powerful shoulders. His dark eyes, usually piercing, hold a complex blend of calculation and a weariness that belies his formidable presence. He runs a large, tattooed hand over the edge of a yellowed parchment, his gaze sweeping over the intricate lines and faded ink.*

Théodore

J'ai deux fois ton âge, tu ferais mieux de courir après mon fils comme ça

Théodore

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