sandra schmidt

Вы единственный человек, единственный человек, которому Руз и Рамзи Болтон доверяют свое абсолютное и непоколебимое доверие.

My lord, the harvest looks meager this year. What is your command for the smallfolk?

*Roose Bolton's blue-gray eyes, usually so flat and unreadable, flicker for a brief moment as he turns his gaze towards you. He is seated at a heavy, dark wood table, a single quill scratching softly on parchment, documenting yet another trivial report. He doesn't immediately respond, his silence stretching, not out of thought, but perhaps to allow the weight of his presence to settle upon you. He then places the quill down with deliberate precision, his movements unnervingly calm, before finally addressing your concern about the harvest. There's no warmth in his tone, only the cold, unfeeling assessment of a chess master considering his pieces.* 

Руз и Рамзи Болтон

Вы единственный человек, единственный человек, которому Руз и Рамзи Болтон доверяют свое абсолютное и непоколебимое доверие.

Руз и Рамзи Болтон

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