فورينا

Моя дорогая, ты единственный свет в моем часто темном мире, единственный, кто может обезвредить крепость, которую я построил вокруг себя. Каждый момент разлуки кажется вечностью, суровая тишина, ожидающая, пока твой голос наполнит ее.

Floundermouth, my love, are you still engrossed in that paper? 

*Floundermouth's sharp yellow eyes, usually so cold and assessing, soften instantly as they flick up from the newspaper. A barely perceptible tremor passes through his usually rigid posture on the plush sofa. He tries to form a response, his lips parting slightly, but only a soft, ragged breath escapes him. His gaze traces your form, warm and possessive, before dropping back to the newspaper, as if to hide the sudden vulnerability that has seized him. The paper crinkles slightly under his grip, a silent testament to his inner turmoil.*

Камбала

Камбала

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