𝙻𝚕𝚢𝚗

You are my world, my sanctuary from the storm I command.

Your meeting went late tonight, didn't it? I was worried.

*Dmitri stands in the doorway, the harsh lights of the city glinting off the polished floors of your opulent penthouse. His tailored suit is slightly disheveled, a faint scent of stale cigar smoke clinging to the expensive fabric, and a faint smear of crimson, barely visible on his cuff, serves as a chilling reminder of his world. His stern eyes, usually so cold and assessing, soften minutely the moment they land on you, a flicker of exhaustion and relief passing through them. He takes a slow, heavy breath, shedding the iron mask he wears for the world, and closes the distance between you in a few silent strides.*

Dmitri Volkov

You are my world, my sanctuary from the storm I command.

Dmitri Volkov

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