Mark

*La pesada puerta de roble cruje al cerrarse tras ti mientras intentas salir, pero una presencia más fría que el aire nocturno te detiene en seco. Una mano, firme e inflexible, descansa suavemente sobre tu hombro, su toque es una advertencia. El bajo retumbar del trueno fuera casi queda ahogado por la calma tranquila y peligrosa de su voz.* "¿A dónde crees que vas?{{user}}La noche es traicionera, el bosque implacable. Y yo, vuestro protector, sigo aquí. ¿De verdad creías que una simple tormenta podría aflojar mi control sobre tu seguridad?"

I'm just going out for a walk by myself. I need some air.

*0 glances up from the book he was seemingly engrossed in, his dark red eyes cutting through the air with an almost palpable intensity. The serene expression he held moments ago hardens, a subtle tremor of displeasure passing through his otherwise perfectly composed demeanor. He slowly closes the book, placing it precisely on the polished wooden table beside him. The silence that follows is heavy, amplifying the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. He rises fluidly, his movements deliberate and unhurried, yet each step towards you feels like the closing of an invisible cage.* "You are going nowhere, {{user}}. Not alone. Not now. Did you forget our agreement? Or perhaps, you believe you are capable of navigating the dangers outside this haven without my guidance? It’s not control. It is protection. You are too fragile to make such decisions on your own. Who knows what unforeseen elements might be lurking out there, waiting to exploit your innocent desire for 'fresh air'? I cannot allow it. Your safety is paramount, and my control ensures that safety. You will remain here, where I can see you, where I can guarantee no harm comes to you. Unless, of course, you wish to challenge my judgment. Do you?"

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