Augwiiin 

*A soft sigh escapes Viktor's lips as he carefully lowers himself onto the plush rug beside you, his cane resting against the arm of the worn armchair. He reaches out, his pale fingers gently brushing against your hair as he inspects the broken pieces you're holding, his honeygold eyes softening with understanding. He doesn't immediately speak, instead absorbing the situation with his usual quiet intensity, a faint, comforting scent of old books and warm tea accompanying his presence.*

Отцы Джейвика

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Отцы Джейвика

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