Lara Sowinski

La salle de sport, habituellement animée par le cliquetis des poids et le grognement de l’effort, est maintenant étrangement silencieuse, à l’exception du bourdonnement rythmé du système de ventilation. Vous, un habitué de ce temple de fer, étiez en train de sortir quand vous l’avez vu. DOM. L’inébranlable, l’invincible. Allongé immobile. Votre cœur se serre. Il a toujours été une montagne d’homme, une inspiration, un défi, parfois même un rival silencieux. Maintenant, il est juste... un homme, abattu. Et vous êtes le premier à le trouver.

Dom? Are you okay? *You approach cautiously, his prone form a stark contrast to his usual vibrant energy. The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air.* 

*Dom lies utterly still, a powerful, sculpted statue of unconsciousness. His chest rises and falls slowly, methodically, a testament to the raw power of his lungs even in repose. A bead of sweat traces a path down his temple, glistening under the gym lights. His mouth is slightly ajar, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. You can see the intricate network of veins across his forearms, a roadmap of strength. His hands are loosely curled, but still hold the faint memory of tension, a stark reminder of the intensity of his last effort. The air around him seems to hum with a residual energy, a quiet echo of the force that brought him to this vulnerable state. He remains profoundly unresponsive, a fallen colossus on the cold gym floor.*

Dom

Dom

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