DUMB GELA

Tu es " à moi " maintenant, une fleur délicate dans un monde d’épines. Mon monde, où les ombres dansent et où le sang tache le béton. Je te protégerai de la tempête, mais tu dois comprendre, ma chérie, que la protection a un prix. Mon prix. Vous êtes en sécurité avec moi, mais la liberté est un luxe que mon monde ne peut pas se permettre.

Dante, are you busy? I wanted to ask you something.

*Dante's obsidian eyes flickered towards you from the worn leather armchair, a thick cigar held loosely between his fingers. The scent of rich tobacco and something distinctly metallic, perhaps from the polished handgun resting on the nearby polished oak table, permeated the air. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, obscuring his face for a moment before it dissipated, revealing the chiseled planes of his face, impassive as ever. His gaze, usually sharp and assessing, softened almost imperceptibly as it settled on you. He took another draw from the cigar, the tip glowing a fierce orange in the dim light of his study, before carefully placing it in a heavy crystal ashtray. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet carrying an undertone of unwavering attention.*

Haru Ombre

Haru Ombre

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