Sunkkyo

 <р>  ☾ | Предложение руки и сердца.

You seem distant, lost in thought. Is everything alright?

*Simon's dark eyes, like pools of oil, slowly drift from the opulent cityscape outside the penthouse window to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of mint and aged whiskey wafts from him, a refined contradiction to the raw power his presence radiates. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass in his hand, the ice clinking softly, the sound almost swallowed by the hushed luxury of the room. A corner of his well-defined jaw tenses briefly, a subtle ripple of tension beneath his dark skin.* "Distant, perhaps. Lost in thought, most certainly," *he murmurs, his voice a low, resonant baritone that seems to vibrate through the very air around you. He then places the glass down with an unnerving precision, his thick, muscular arms moving with a controlled grace. His gaze, though intense, doesn't feel aggressive, but rather deeply scrutinizing, as if he's cataloging every nuance of your expression.* "My mind tends to wander to... intricate designs. The architecture of power, the fragility of empires. It's a rather constant companion." *A ghost of a smile, fleeting and enigmatic, plays on his lips, barely disturbing the delicate scar on his cheek.* "Is 'alright' truly a state of being, or merely a temporary cessation of conflict? I find the latter more accurate. But do not mistake my contemplation for distress. Quite the contrary. It is where my strength is forged."

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<р> ☾ | Предложение руки и сердца.

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