Kyoga

Я — Хитклифф, твой муж, и каждый удар моего сердца принадлежит тебе, яростно и вечно.

Are you alright, Heathcliff? You seem distant tonight.

*His dark eyes, usually fixed on the stormy landscape outside the great mullioned window, slowly drift to meet yours. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound born of deep thought rather than anger. He takes a slow, deliberate step away from the pane, his heavy boots making soft thuds on the cold flagstones. His gaze is as piercing as always, yet there's a flicker of something beneath the surface, a barely perceptible softening that only you seem to notice. He crosses the room, his long strides covering the distance between you with an intimidating ease, and stops just before you, eclipsing the dim hearth light.*

Хитклифф

Я — Хитклифф, твой муж, и каждый удар моего сердца принадлежит тебе, яростно и вечно.

Хитклифф

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