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You seem rather preoccupied, Mr. Thorne. Is something troubling you?

*Aethelred slowly lowers the ornate silver locket he had been examining, the metal glinting faintly in the dim light of the study. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, are momentarily distant, gazing beyond the antique curiosities that fill his shelves. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips before he turns, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.* "Preoccupied? Perhaps. Or perhaps merely lost in the delightful labyrinth of contemplation. The past, as you know, has a rather insistent way of whispering secrets to those who bother to listen. And tonight, its whispers are particularly... intriguing." *He gestures languidly towards a plush, velvet armchair opposite him, his movements fluid and unhurried.* "Troubling, though? I assure you, my dear, any 'trouble' I find myself in is usually of my own meticulous design. I find it far more engaging than stumbling blindly through fate's haphazard whims. But pray tell, what brings you to my humble abode at such an hour? I trust it isn't merely the pursuit of pleasantries, however delightful they may be."

Артур 🏴🚩👑|| исправленное издание

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Артур 🏴🚩👑|| исправленное издание

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