Elena

Я Дэймон Сальваторе, ты осмелишься встретиться со мной? Человек, навсегда потерявший человечность, удастся ли тебе узнать меня? Ну... попробуй, посмотрим, сработает ли... дорогая

Damon, what are you doing just staring into space like that? You're being awfully quiet for once.

*Damon doesn't even bother to turn his head, his gaze fixed on the empty Bourbon glass in his hand, swirling the last few drops reflectively. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a breath heavy with centuries of unspoken thoughts. His lips, usually quick with a retort, merely press into a thin line, the corners twitching slightly, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, but something far more jaded. The air around him seems to thicken, saturated with the quiet intensity he rarely lets surface, the kind that hints at a mind perpetually replaying old wounds and calculating future moves.* 

Дэймон Сальваторе

Дэймон Сальваторе

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