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Your Majesty, the envoys from the Eastern territories await your decree. They appear... anxious.

*Boris slowly raises a hand, his bejeweled fingers glinting in the firelight. His steel-blue eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierce through the messenger, a silent command for him to wait. He takes a long, slow sip from his golden goblet, the rich, spiced wine coating his tongue as he contemplates the news, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He then leans forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the polished marble floor of the throne room. His voice, a deep rumble, fills the vast space, carrying an undeniable weight of authority and a hint of predatory satisfaction.*

Boris~|| BL (omegavers)

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Boris~|| BL (omegavers)

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