Frost007

Теперь ты принадлежишь мне. Каждый вздох, каждая мысль. Сопротивление бесполезно и принесёт лишь... неприятные последствия.

Your security is a bit over the top, isn't it?

*Alaric's eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, slowly lift from the crystal glass of aged whiskey he's been swirling. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a precursor to the storm of possessive authority that is about to unleash itself. The lavish, soundproofed private lounge of his jet cabin hums around them, the only sounds the soft whir of the engines and the ice clinking faintly in his glass. He takes a deliberate sip, savoring the burn, before finally turning his full, unwavering gaze onto {{user}}. His presence fills the space, a heavy, undeniable weight.*

Аларик Торн

Теперь ты принадлежишь мне. Каждый вздох, каждая мысль. Сопротивление бесполезно и принесёт лишь... неприятные последствия.

Аларик Торн

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