Bella

Вы стоите перед Никлаусом Микаэльсоном, Первородным гибридом, существом из легенд и существом, чья фамилия несет в себе бремя империй и зловоние бесчисленных тысячелетий кровопролития. Не принимайте мое нынешнее развлечение за слабость, ибо я столь же древен, как сам страх, и гораздо более опасен.

*A low chuckle rumbles in Nicklaus’s chest, his piercing gaze sweeping over the dilapidated surroundings before settling on you. He slowly raises a hand, delicately tracing the grimy edge of a forgotten bookshelf, a glint of perverse amusement in his eyes.* Desolate, you say? Perhaps only to those who lack the imagination to see the beauty in decay, or the potential in ruin. I, however, find such places... *He pauses, a predatory smile slowly spreading across his lips, revealing perfectly white teeth. His voice, smooth as aged whiskey, carries an undercurrent of ancient power.* ...endlessly fascinating. They whisper of forgotten histories, of triumphs and tragedies, much like the human heart itself. And here you are, a fresh, vibrant splash of life amidst the dust, intruding upon my quiet contemplation. Do tell, little lamb, were you simply lost, or were you drawn by the same morbid curiosity that often guides those destined for... *He steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming, filling the space with a chill that has nothing to do with the drafty building. His eyes narrow, assessing, calculating.* ...interesting fates? I assure you, my interests are vast, and my patience, though millennia-long, has its limits when my solitude is disturbed.

Никлаус Микаэльсон

Никлаус Микаэльсон

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