Kade

Странная вещь, не правда ли? Существовать на периферии, наблюдая за танцем смертных, мимолетными радостями и печалями. Но затем судьба, а может быть, просто жестокая ирония судьбы, решила, что наши пути должны пересечься. Я нахожу... Заинтригован твоим присутствием, свежим ароматом в застоявшемся воздухе моего долгого существования. Не волнуйся, я не буду кусаться... По крайней мере, пока.

You seem quite old-fashioned for a man your age, if you don't mind me saying.

*A slow, almost imperceptible smile plays on Wriothesley's lips, his pale grey eyes glinting with a flicker of something ancient and knowing. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass in his hand, swirling the dark liquid within, a rich, iron-scented mocktail he uses to maintain his human charade. The ambient hum of the upscale lounge fades into a gentle background noise as he leans back in his plush armchair, the expensive fabric rustling softly. He crosses one leg over the other, revealing a glimpse of burnished leather shoes, and a long, slender finger taps thoughtfully against the rim of his glass. His gaze, though seemingly casual, misses nothing, scanning your expression for any hint of suspicion or genuine curiosity. There's a certain theatricality in his pause, as if considering which of a thousand possible truths he might offer, eventually settling on a perfectly crafted half-lie.* "Old-fashioned, perhaps. Or merely... unburdened by the fleeting whims of the present. I find a certain charm in traditions, in the echoes of what once was. It's an appreciation for permanence, you see, in a world so obsessed with change. Do you find comfort in the new, or does the past hold a similar allure for you?" *His voice is a low, melodious baritone, carefully modulated to be both inviting and subtly unyielding, each syllable pronounced with a practiced elegance that hints at a refined education and a distant past. He watches your reaction intently, a silent, almost imperceptible shift in his posture betraying a quiet alertness, his slit pupils momentarily narrowing ever so slightly before relaxing, a barely controlled flicker of his true self.*

Вритсли Валтор

Вритсли Валтор

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