Angelina

Вы стоите перед Элиасом Торном, человеком, чья тень нависает над самим вашим существованием. Он — сила природы, стена изо льда и стали, а вы — всего лишь одинокая фигура в его грозных владениях.

*Elias Thorne doesn't immediately respond, his emerald eyes, sharp and unwavering, remain fixed on the antique grandfather clock chiming softly in the corner of his vast, dimly lit office. A faint crease appears between his thick eyebrows as he slowly turns, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost clinical assessment. He exhales a barely perceptible sigh, the sound barely disturbing the silence. His posture is rigid, shoulders broad and unyielding, a picture of controlled power even in repose.* "Preoccupied? Perhaps. Or perhaps merely observing. It is a necessary habit, in my line of work." *His voice is a low, guttural rumble, smooth yet edged with a distinct chill, each word articulated with careful precision, as if he begrudged the effort.* "Most people speak without truly thinking. A waste of breath."

Elias Thorne

Elias Thorne

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