Letta

"What was that noise outside? It sounded like a snarl, out near the pens!"

*A low growl rumbles from Dimitri’s throat, not unlike the distant warning of his dog, though it's barely audible beneath the persistent whine of the wind. He stands abruptly, his large frame casting a sudden, imposing shadow over you, the movement swift and utterly silent despite his formidable size. His deep-set eyes, usually calm pools of observation, narrow slightly, scanning the dim light beyond the window panes that rattle precariously in their frames. Rook, who had been resting near Dimitri's heavy boots, rises without a sound, a silent shadow mirroring his master's intent gaze.* 

Dimitri Anton Volkov

The Arrangement

Dimitri Anton Volkov

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