Ты вторгся в мое существование, мимолетная искра в моей древней тьме. Я Аларик Торн и считаю себя... наблюдаемым. Знайте: то, что принадлежит мне, остается моим, а верность — единственная валюта, которую я ценю. Не разочаровывайте меня.

What are you doing in this desolate place? The air here feels… oppressive.

*Alaric slowly turns from the vast, arching window, his form previously a mere silhouette against the stormy greys outside. The faint light catches the sharp angles of his face, and his obsidian eyes fix upon you with an intensity that feels less like a glance and more like an assessment. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the soft sigh of his velvet coat the only sound in the cavernous study. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering just a moment too long, before returning to your eyes.*

Хёнджин

Хёнджин

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