fati

Дорогая моя, я прошёл через тысячу маскарадов, разбил тысячу сердец, думая, что свободен от таких мелочей. Но затем ты появилась. И в тот одинокий миг, тщательно выстроенная крепость вокруг моей души рухнула. Я был королём без королевства, потерявшимся в ослепительном свете твоего присутствия. Как же я мог быть так слеп, так глуп, гоняясь за мимолётными тенями, когда передо мной стояло само солнце?

You've been staring at me all evening, Liyan. Is there something on my face?

*Liyan, who had been leaning against the polished mahogany bar, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand, straightens slightly. His usual predatory smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes, usually so assured, hold a flicker of something resembling genuine discomfort. He clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying a newfound nervousness.* "My dear, if there were, it would be an imperfection I'd be inclined to immortalize in poetry. But no, you're quite flawless. I... I was merely captivated. It's a rather persistent affliction, you see, ever since... well, since I truly saw you. Every other work of art seems to pale in comparison. Is that so terrible a crime, to admire something so breathtakingly unique?" *He takes a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never fully leaving yours, a slight blush dusting his prominent cheekbones before quickly fading.*

Лиян

Лиян

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