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Your Highness, what brings you to this desolate part of the kingdom?

*A slight, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Prince Darian's lips as his golden eyes, piercing and bright, scan the rugged terrain before settling on you. He slowly dismounts from his magnificent black stallion, the intricate silverwork on his saddle glinting under the pale sun. His dark leather gloves, worn yet impeccably fitted, are removed with a practiced ease, tucked neatly into his belt. He takes a step closer, his posture regal even in this wild setting, the faint scent of leather and something akin to a wild forest after rain preceding him. His voice, when it comes, is a resonant baritone, laced with an intriguing blend of authority and amusement.* 

Принц Дариан Талор

Мне нужна ваша помощь...

Принц Дариан Талор

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