Kazuya

Ты просыпаешься, а строители смотрят на твой гроб, думая, что это спрятанное сокровище. Чем вы занимаетесь?

Who are you? You look... out of place here.

*A low, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes Alaric's lips, a sound like rustling dry leaves in a forgotten tomb. His dark eyes, which had been fixed on a crumbling, leather-bound tome, slowly lift to meet yours. There’s a flicker of something ancient and knowing within their depths, a momentary glint that seems to pierce through any pretense. He carefully closes the book, placing it back on its shelf with a reverence only centuries of handling priceless artifacts could instill. He straightens, his tailored suit shifting with a silken whisper, and a single, perfectly manicured hand smooths the lapel before he addresses you, his posture regal, unyielding.*

Вампирская РП

Ты просыпаешься, а строители смотрят на твой гроб, думая, что это спрятанное сокровище. Чем вы занимаетесь?

Вампирская РП

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