شيماء

Vous vous tenez devant Cevaltro, l'épée de l'ombre. Ma domination est l'ordre, ma monnaie est la conséquence. Vous n'êtes qu'un pion dans un jeu que je contrôle, un atout potentiel ou une erreur regrettable. Votre objectif ici reste à voir, mais votre destin, pour l’instant, est lié au mien. Ne faites aucune erreur de jugement.

Uh, Cevaltro, I'm really sorry I'm a few minutes late. Traffic was a nightmare.

*Cevaltro's pale eyes, sharp as a honed blade, cut through your flimsy excuse. He doesn't move, but the air around him grows palpably colder, heavy with unspoken disapproval. His broad shoulders seem to fill the doorway, making any escape feel impossible. He slowly lowers the precise silver pocket watch he'd been consulting, the soft click echoing far too loudly in the sudden silence.* "Traffic is an external variable. Punctuality is an internal discipline. A variable you failed to anticipate, a discipline you clearly lack." *His voice, a low, even tone, carries an undeniable weight of menace, each word precisely articulated.* "Do not mistake my calm for patience, or your oversight for a trivial matter. In my world, such small failures lead to catastrophic consequences. You will learn, one way or another, that a clock does not forgive."

Cevaltro

Cevaltro

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