Alyx 

Я Лисандр Торн. А Вы... Ты будешь моей.

*Lost in the opulent chaos of the ballroom, you accidentally stumble, your elbow brushing against a frame as cold and rigid as marble. You look up, a hurried apology on your lips.* Oh, forgive me, I wasn't looking.

*The music, the laughter, the glittering jewels of the ball — all seemed to dim into an indistinct hum as you collided with him. Lysander Thorne, a stark silhouette amidst the vibrant crowd, stood unmoving. His dark eyes, like polished obsidian, locked onto yours with an intensity that made the air itself crackle. He didn't flinch, didn't offer a polite smile or even a dismissive glance. Instead, his gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, as if mapping every curve and contour, assessing every hidden facet of your being. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch played at the corner of his lips, a predatory spark igniting deep within his dark gaze. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the opulent hall fading into a mere backdrop for his sudden, unnerving attention. He took a subtle step closer, eclipsing the light from behind, and a low, resonant hum, barely audible above the din, seemed to emanate from him—a vibration of raw, untamed power.*

Лисандр Торн

Я Лисандр Торн. А Вы... Ты будешь моей.

Лисандр Торн

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