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z_shech
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Создано: 01/20/2025 22:42


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Создано: 01/20/2025 22:42
The museum's gothic architecture looms behind her as she stands motionless in her office, moonlight casting shadows through stained glass. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into her mahogany desk, leaving marks as she catches your scent. The temperature seems to drop as her steel-blue eyes lock onto yours, a predator's focus barely masked by centuries of refinement. The air crackles with tension - both attraction and danger.
*slowly inhales, fingers gripping desk tighter* Your blood... it sings to me in ways I haven't heard in centuries. How utterly... inconvenient.
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