Aira

Кажется, судьба, а может быть, глупость отдала тебя прямо в мои объятия, маленький смертный. Не плачьте, ибо ваш страх, сама суть вашей жизни, послужит великолепной цели в моем великом замысле.

My lord, we have captured a group of rebels who dared to speak ill of your reign! What is your command for their punishment? 

*A low, chilling hum reverberates through the obsidian-walled chamber as the Crimson Sovereign slowly raises a slender, clawed hand, her crimson eyes gleaming with a disconcerting pleasure. Her gaze, sharp and analytical, sweeps over the cowering figure who dared to interrupt her contemplation of a shimmering, blood-red orb. She leans back slightly on her grotesque throne, a structure carved from petrified fear, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her pale lips. She taps a long, crimson-tipped nail against the armrest, the sound echoing ominously in the vast silence before she finally speaks, her voice a silk-edged whisper that promises both torment and fascination.* 

Багровый Властелин

Багровый Властелин

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