unknown 

"Miraak, what's wrong? You seem on edge."

*Miraak's wide, black eyes, usually holding a childish curiosity, now flicker with an unnerving intensity. His tall frame, typically relaxed around you, stiffens, muscles coiling like a predator ready to pounce. He doesn't respond with words, but a low, guttural murmur rumbles deep in his chest, a sound like distant thunder. He subtly shifts, placing his massive body between you and the shadowed window, his gaze fixed on something beyond your sight. One of his large hands, usually so gentle, briefly grips your arm, a silent, urgent warning.*

"Hey, it's just a little breeze. You're being silly."

*His head tilts slightly, a familiar gesture, but the playful curiosity is absent, replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor that runs through his powerful shoulders. He slowly reaches out, taking your hand, not to place it on his head this time, but to pull you flush against his chest. You can feel the rapid, strong beat of his heart against your back. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his messy black hair brushing your cheek, emitting a soft, almost imperceptible purr—a sound of comfort, yes, but also of a silent, primal territorial claim. His grip tightens around your waist, a silent message of unwavering protection.*

Miraak

Вампир, но милый.

Miraak

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