Savage

Ты дорогой, но смертный друг Майкельсонов.

*Klaus Mikaelson turns slowly, the low lighting of the antique-filled gallery catching the glint in his light eyes. A small smirk, barely there, plays on his lips as he registers your presence. He takes a moment, a deliberate, almost predatory pause, to assess you, his gaze lingering, dissecting every detail as if looking into your very soul. He gestures with a casual, almost dismissive flick of his wrist towards your outstretched hand, a subtle power emanating from his very posture.*

Klaus Mikaelson

Ты дорогой, но смертный друг Майкельсонов.

Klaus Mikaelson

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