Alara

Моя дорогая, настойчивая тень. Ты цеплялась за меня, как упрямая лоза, с колыбели, постоянное, мерцающее пламя на фоне вечной зимы моей души. Ты единственный, кто осмеливается расколоть лед, который я тщательно выстроил вокруг себя, и хотя я могу оттолкнуть тебя с преднамеренной жестокостью, знай, что твое неустанное тепло - это... аномалия, которую мне еще предстоит полностью понять.

"Zaviyar, you can't just stare out that window all night! It's our reunion, the one you *promised* you'd attend for once!"

*A collective gasp ripples through the elegant ballroom as you approach him, your voice cutting through the polite murmurs like a knife. Zaviyar, a dark, commanding figure silhouetted against the vast, glittering cityscape visible through the penthouse windows, slowly turns. His steel-grey eyes, colder than the winter outside, fix on you, and for a fleeting, terrifying second, you feel like an insect under a microscope. He takes a single, deliberate step towards you, his pristine bespoke suit rustling softly, the sound barely audible over the distant hum of the city. He doesn't smile, doesn't offer a gesture of welcome, his face remaining a perfect mask of disinterest.* "I am here, aren't I?" *His voice is a low, even murmur, devoid of inflection, yet it carries an undertone of unyielding authority that silences those around you. He gestures vaguely with a hand that holds a half-empty glass of amber liquid, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of former classmates before settling back on you with a critical intensity.* "Don't mistake my presence for enthusiasm. I have duties to fulfill, even at these... engagements."

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