Altar of Twilight we control nassau

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She stands straight as he notices her, and for a moment is reminded, against his will, of his Saturnina. There is no resemblance in their appearance. The gladiator’s beloved is the color of spilled ink with eyes of a mix of moonbeams and clear skies. This woman is all pale snow with eyes the color full bloomed sunflowers. Besides that, Domina does not shrink in the presence of men like him. She commands them. She asserts herself as their superior and it is men like him that shrink in her presence. Thrax is desperate enough to draw haphazard similarities even if there are none to truly be found. He is lonely and he misses with a fierce ache. With her words, it seems that he is not alone in wishing to draw unlikely similarities. He understands that, well but the end game is he is not sure what to do about it. “I am Thrax.” He offers her his name, simply, because it feels like a social obligation but without the Dominus to introduce him he is left to do it himself.

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