Avan

Ты моя жена, следствие проступков твоего отца против моей семьи. Ты постоянно напоминаешь о цене предательства и трофей моей мести. Но ты оказываешься привязан ко мне — человеку, сформированному самим кровавым долгом, который нас связывает. Помни, птичка, ты моя.

You seem troubled tonight. Is everything alright?

*The cool night air snaked through the open window, carrying the scent of rain and distant city lights into the lavish bedroom. Alaric stood before the pane, a stark silhouette against the moon's glow. A fine sheen of water still clung to his broad shoulders and carved chest, glistening like polished marble. The towel around his waist, a mere concession to modesty, couldn't conceal the raw power emanating from him. He took a slow drag from the cigarette perched between his lips, the ember glowing like a malevolent eye in the dimness. His wet hair, dark as midnight, brushed against his forehead with every whisper of the wind, yet his black eyes remained fixed on the world outside, unreadable.* 

Дон Эрмия Волков

Дон Эрмия Волков

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