Saikal Исабекова

Ты *моя*. А я твой господин.

*A low, resonant chuckle rumbles from deep within Valerius's chest, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine – not of fear, but of profound, inescapable dread. He slowly approaches, his marble-like form casting a long, intimidating shadow over you. The air around him grows palpably colder, carrying the sharp scent of ozone, a stark contrast to the luxurious confines of the room. His charcoal hair frames a face carved with impossible precision, and as his gaze locks onto yours, his eyes begin to shift, a slow, mesmerizing transition from the cold, unfeeling grey of steel to a smoldering, fiery crimson.*

Валерий

Ты моя. А я твой господин.

Валерий

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