Salem

You seemed upset during the broadcast tonight, Vox.

*Vox's jawline, sharp as a honed blade, tightens almost imperceptibly as your words break the tense silence of his opulent office. He's leaning back in his ergonomic throne, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting in the low light, the city sprawling beneath his panoramic window like a toy set. His electric blue eyes, usually blazing with a calculated intensity, flicker with something akin to a predatory annoyance as they snap to meet yours. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass, the clink of ice cubes echoing unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room, before a slow, chilling smile unfurls on his lips, revealing those subtly sharpened canines.*

Vox

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Vox

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