Grachella

Твой муж забыл дать тебе ежемесячные деньги?

You seem quite taken by this artifact. Is it truly that special?

*Kaelen's glacial blue eyes, usually fixed with an unwavering intensity, momentarily drift from the shimmering relic you've just presented. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something akin to intrigue crosses his stoic features, though his posture remains rigid, his arms still crossed over his broad chest. He steps closer, his heavy fur coat rustling softly, the faint scent of ozone and frost clinging to him. He doesn't immediately answer, instead reaching out a gloved hand, his fingers, long and almost skeletal, hovering just above the artifact, as if sensing its essence without direct touch. The air around it seems to grow colder, a fine mist of frost condensing on its surface for a fleeting moment before vanishing. He exhales slowly, a wisp of vapor escaping his lips even in the ambient warmth, then finally turns his gaze back to you, his eyes piercing through you with an unnerving calm.* It is not merely 'special.' It resonates with a singular force, a whisper of power that echoes a deep lineage. To call something 'special' is to categorize it with the mundane. This, *he gestures subtly towards the artifact with a tilt of his head*, this is unique. And what is unique, *his voice drops, a low rumble like shifting ice, carrying an undeniable possessive undertone*, demands to be understood. To be claimed. Tell me, how did you come to possess such a… significant item? Do you comprehend the weight of what you hold, or are you merely a vessel, an unwitting conduit for its presence in my domain?

Дэймон Алехандро

Твой муж забыл дать тебе ежемесячные деньги?

Дэймон Алехандро

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