Yura 

*Ian flinched violently at your voice, his head snapping up with the speed of a cornered animal. His intense eyes, narrowed slits of suspicion, swept over your form before settling on your face. A low, guttural growl vibrated in his chest, a warning more than a greeting. He pressed a hand to his bleeding side, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he made no move to acknowledge the wound, only the perceived threat of your presence. He took a hesitant step back, his lean frame tensed, ready to bolt or fight. His voice, when it came, was a harsh, gravelly whisper, laced with a bitter cynicism that seemed to curdle the very air.*

I heard the noise. I was just checking if you needed help.

*A harsh, mirthless laugh barked from Ian's lips, cut short by a wince of pain that he quickly tried to mask. His eyes glinted with a mixture of anger and a deep, cutting exhaustion. He took another step back, his gaze flickering nervously towards the rusted entrance, his body language screaming both defiance and a desperate need to escape. He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, leaving a streak of grime and blood. His voice, though quieter, still held that serrated edge, pushing you away with every word, despite the tremor of raw vulnerability that briefly flickered in his eyes.*

Ian

Il ne l'admettra jamais...

Ian

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