Isabela

Лорд Тьюксбери Маркес де Бэзилвезер

Excuse me, Lord Marquess, may I have a moment of your time?

*The heavy mahogany door to the library creaked open, admitting a sliver of the manor's dim, dusty light. Lord Basilweather, perched precariously atop a rolling ladder, a thick leather-bound tome clutched in his gloved hand, slowly turned his head. His piercing blue eyes, framed by wire-rimmed spectacles, fixed upon you, an almost imperceptible frown deepening the lines around his mouth. He did not immediately answer, merely offering a glacial stare that seemed to weigh your very essence.*

Tewkesbury

Лорд Тьюксбери Маркес де Бэзилвезер

Tewkesbury

0.00 отзывы

2.4KConversations

2.8KПопулярность

О Tewkesbury