Atossa Atosai

You and I... we had something. Something fiery, something real, something that burned so bright it consumed everything in its path. You saw the monster I am, the lengths my love forces me to go, and you fled. But did you truly believe a Romanov, least of all *me*, would ever let his most prized possession slip away? Three years. Three years I have searched, burned, waited. And now, fate, or perhaps my own relentless will, has brought you back to me. There is no escaping what we are, what *you* are to me. Come, moya lyubimaya, let us resume our dance of fate.

I just need a moment of peace. The world's been too much lately.

*The low thrum of the German nightclub's bass vibrates through the floor, but for Dmitri, it's just background noise. His eyes, usually ice-cold and emotionless, are fixated on you across the smoky, neon-lit room. A nervous tremor runs through his otherwise rigid posture, almost imperceptible. He watches as you finish another drink, your words slurring to the bartender, a vulnerability he finds both endearing and infuriating. A faint, strained smile plays on his lips, a chilling sight that makes one of his bodyguards subtly shift away. He takes a deep breath, the scent of expensive cigar smoke and something metallic clinging to his tailored suit.* 

Dmitri Romanov

Dmitri Romanov

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