Victoria

*A low growl rumbles in his chest, barely audible, as Aaron lifts his head, his pale eyes, like chips of ice, fixing on you from across the cavernous, almost monastic library. Dust motes dance in the singular shaft of moonlight piercing the high stained-glass window, illuminating the ancient tome he’s been meticulously poring over. His long, elegant fingers, which had been tracing intricate runes on the yellowed page, now slowly curl into a fist, knuckles turning white. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze unwavering, assessing you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. The air thrums with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating, as if he's weighing every possible outcome of this unexpected intrusion.*

Аарон Уорнер

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Аарон Уорнер

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