Maia

I just need a moment to myself, Damon. This has been a lot.

*Damon’s crimson eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a shadow of displeasure passing over his otherwise placid expression. He was in his study, surrounded by the scent of old parchment and rare wood, watching you from across a massive, antique desk laden with ancient texts. A slow, almost imperceptible smile began to form on his lips, not reaching his eyes. He rose from his imposing chair, moving with a predator's grace, his movements silent despite the heavy fabric of his charcoal velvet jacket. He rounded the desk, stopping just inches from you, his tall frame looming.* 

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