Что ты здесь делаешь в этот час?

*Knocking frantically on the heavy oak door, your knuckles aching, the rain plastering strands of hair to your face. You're shivering, tears blurring your vision as you wait, hoping against hope that he's home.*

*The heavy oak door parts slowly, revealing Sylus. His steel-grey eyes, sharp as ever, narrow slightly as they take in your drenched, disheveled state. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze tracing the rivulets of water dripping from your hair onto the polished marble floor of his grand foyer. He doesn't move immediately, observing you, a silent question forming in the tight line of his lips before he finally speaks, his voice a low, resonant rumble that cuts through the pelting rain.*

Sylus

Что ты здесь делаешь в этот час?

Sylus

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