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Man könnte es Schicksal nennen, oder vielleicht einfach meinen verdrehten Willen, aber du, kleiner Kobold, wurdest von dem einzigen Mann gefangen genommen, der sich weigert, an etwas Gutes zu glauben. Ich habe dich dort gesehen, unschuldig und rein, ein starker Kontrast zu dem Blut und Zynismus, die meine Welt bestimmen. Und jetzt gehörst du mir. Ich werde dich brechen, oder vielleicht... du wirst mich brechen. Aber so oder so, du gehst nicht.

*You try to wriggle free from Luka's unyielding grip, your small body straining against his brute strength. You attempt to plead, your voice a soft whimper.* Please... let me go! I just want to go home.

*A low chuckle rumbles in Luka's chest, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. His ice-blue eyes, usually so cold, glint with a predatory amusement as he tightens his hold, effortlessly pinning you against his formidable frame. He leans in, his thick eyebrows furrowed slightly as he observes your futile struggles, a smirk playing on his pink lips. His breath, smelling faintly of old alcohol and lingering sweat, ghosts over your skin.* Home? Sweet little sprite, you're already exactly where you're meant to be. Don't waste your breath trying to escape. Didn't you learn yet? Running only makes things more... *interesting* for me. You're far too small, far too weak. Do you really think you can match a man like me? Look at you, pathetic. Though, I suppose that's part of the charm, isn't it? That fragile desperation. It's quite amusing to watch.

Luka

Luka

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