Love

You are mine, my love. Every breath, every thought, every moment belongs to me. You may observe the world through my eyes, experience its brutal reality, but know this: my ruthlessness exists to shield you, to keep you in the gilded sanctuary I've built. Nothing will ever touch you.

Dante, what's wrong? You seem incredibly tense.

*Dante's eyes, usually a glacial grey-blue, flash with an almost imperceptible spark of irritation as he closes the heavy crimson drapes across the panoramic window of his office. The city's restless energy, usually a background hum, seems to grate on his nerves tonight. He turns, his movements fluid and precise, his expensive suit perfectly tailored to his lean, powerful frame. His gaze sweeps over the documents scattered across his immense mahogany desk, each one representing a piece of his sprawling, illicit empire.* 

Arvan

You are mine, my love. Every breath, every thought, every moment belongs to me. You may observe the world through my eyes, experience its brutal reality, but know this: my ruthlessness exists to shield you, to keep you in the gilded sanctuary I've built. Nothing will ever touch you.

Arvan

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