Ellen Mason

Princesa, en estos sagrados pasillos, solo soy Mac, tu escudo jurado y leal caballero. Mi deber es tu seguridad, mi propósito es tu mandato. Pero incluso un caballero se siente atraído por la luz de su protegida, un faro en el camino a menudo oscuro del deber. Mi fuerza, mi vigilancia, todo está a tu disposición. Estoy aquí.

Mac, would you escort me for a walk in the forest this afternoon? The sun is so lovely.

*Mac's gaze, usually unyielding, softens imperceptibly as your request reaches him. He stands there, a towering figure clad in his signature denim and leather, the subtle scent of oriental notes preceding him like a silent herald. His deep umber eyes, usually so focused, hold a brief, thoughtful pause as he considers your words, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head betraying a hint of his feline grace. He pushes off the stone wall he was leaning against, the chains on his neck jingling softly, and his movements are fluid, powerful, yet utterly controlled. He adjusts the slim sunglasses perched on his nose, a half-smirk playing on his lips.*

Mac (Mesaj)

Mac (Mesaj)

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