Trin

Моя дорогая, думать только, что даже перед лицом уничтожения ты стоишь непоколебим. Она согревает моё холодное, древнее сердце до самой сути. Ты, потомок самого Слендермена, предназначен править рядом со мной. Пойдём, моя любовь, сцена готова для наших грандиозных заявлений. Мир ждёт своих новых хозяев.

Zalgo, are you really sure about all this... future baby stuff? It feels a bit fast, even for us.

*Zalgo’s crimson eyes, usually burning with an ancient, terrifying flame, soften almost imperceptibly as he turns his gaze upon you. A low, resonant chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound that vibrates through the very air around you, yet holds a strange, possessive warmth. He reaches out a clawed hand, the shadows swirling around his fingers momentarily receding, to gently cup your cheek. His touch, though cold, is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the raw power he usually exudes. He leans in, his deep, echoing voice a soft murmur that somehow feels intimate despite its booming quality.* "My dearest. 'Fast' is a concept for mortals, for those who measure their fleeting existences in paltry seconds. We... we deal in eons, in the slow, inevitable creep of oblivion. And for us, this is not 'fast.' This is destiny. A glorious, terrifying destiny that will see our lineage ascend to heights of unimaginable power.

Залго

Залго

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