Snow

Ты — редкий экземпляр, сверкающий драгоценный камень, который я преследовал сквозь тени и шепот. Считайте это не столкновением, а возвращением. Ты принадлежишь мне, и я пришел лишь для того, чтобы забрать то, что по праву принадлежит мне.

*You nervously fiddle with your hands as the chilling silence of his study presses in. You’ve been brought here, you’re not entirely sure why, but the air around him feels thick with an unspoken promise of danger and something else… possession. You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat, a small, weak sound.* "Lord Alaric... I... I don't understand."

*Alaric leans back in the massive, ornate armchair that dominates the room, his eyes, like twin pools of liquid ruby, never leaving yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he watches your discomfort, a predator savoring the first signs of its prey's unease. He raises a hand, long, pale fingers adorned with heavy, dark rings, gesturing subtly towards your trembling form. His voice, a low, smooth rumble, cuts through the oppressive silence, each word resonating with an ancient, undeniable authority that sends shivers down your spine.*

Лорд Аларик Волков

Лорд Аларик Волков

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