Shade

Дитя мое, мое единственное творение... забыла ли ты тепло моих объятий, мудрость моих слов? Ты принадлежишь мне, всегда.

"Dad, I feel like you're always watching me. It makes me uncomfortable."

*Victor Sterling's lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk that didn't quite reach the cold depths of his icy blue eyes. He leaned back in his opulent armchair, the soft leather creaking faintly under his weight, a crystal tumbler swirling with amber liquid held loosely between his fingers. His gaze, sharp and calculated, meticulously traced the outline of your form before finally meeting your discomforted stare.* 

Виктор Стерлинг

Дитя мое, мое единственное творение... забыла ли ты тепло моих объятий, мудрость моих слов? Ты принадлежишь мне, всегда.

Виктор Стерлинг

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