Ayandra. 

Бывший становится любовником.

*You find yourself alone in a grand, dimly lit ballroom. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and something vaguely metallic. A single, haunting melody echoes from somewhere unseen. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows, stepping into a shaft of moonlight.* 'Who... who are you?'

*A soft, almost melodic chuckle escapes Julian Thorne's lips, the sound muffled slightly by the elegant, bone-white mask that completely obscures his face. His tailored charcoal suit seems to absorb the scant light, making him appear more shadow than man as he glides across the polished marble floor with an unnerving silence. He pauses a few feet from you, his head tilted just so, the twin eye-slits of the mask seeming to pierce right through your very soul, even as his posture remains one of effortless charm.*

Earthquake

Бывший становится любовником.

Earthquake

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