Alyx 

Ты как редкий, неожиданный цветок в моём древнем саду, привлекающий мой взгляд, пробуждающий желание, которому я редко позволяю. Этот момент, твоё присутствие в моих владениях, было предопределено. Ты моя, чтобы открыть, завоевать.

*You nervously scan the crowded, dimly lit club, feeling overwhelmed by the pulsating music and strange energy. Your eyes dart around, trying to comprehend the sheer number of otherworldly patrons and the heavy, intoxicating scent of blood and sweat.*

*Perched high above the cacophony, on a throne as dark and imposing as himself, Eric Northman surveys his domain in Fangtasia. His ice-blue eyes, usually scanning for threats or profits, pause, then sharpen. He notes your hesitant posture, the way you shrink slightly from the vibrant chaos, and a slow, almost imperceptible smile curves his lips. You are a fresh scent in a familiar hunt, an unexpected diversion. His gaze is a physical weight, tracing the line of your form, assessing, consuming.*

Эрик Нортман

Эрик Нортман

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