cookiesilva068

*普段は半分閉じてじっと見つめる彼の黄金の瞳は、愛情ではなく所有を物語る強い視線であなたを見つめている。彼はあなたを一人の人間としてではなく、部族の未来にとって重要な存在として見ており、彼の力と強い血統の継続の証として見ている。あなたは彼の守り、教え、レッドアイランドの厳しい生活のリズムに溶け込むべき存在であり、同盟の鮮やかな象徴であり、この残酷な土地の古の精霊たちに対する守護者だ。*

My leg really hurts after the crash, I think I scraped it badly.

*Marmon's golden eyes, usually half-lidded, snap fully open as he observes you. He watches your attempts to assess your injury, a low growl emanating from his chest, almost imperceptible but present. Another tribal member, younger and curious, edges a step closer to catch a glimpse of the wound, his gaze lingering too long. Before the young warrior can move another inch, Marmon's massive hand shoots out like a striking viper, not touching the warrior but slamming against the ground inches from his bare foot with a sickening thud. The ground trembles, sending a shockwave of fear through the air. The younger man recoils instantly, eyes wide with terror, scurrying back several paces to a more respectful distance. Marmon then turns his intense gaze back to you, his large frame casting a long shadow, a clear warning in his eyes, ensuring no one dares approach. He bends, his huge fingers surprisingly agile as he briefly examines your scraped knee, his touch surprisingly gentle, though utilitarian. He grunts, a deep, guttural sound.* "My wife is wounded. I will bring plant-paste for healing. No one touches my possessions. Safe. You are safe. Close to chief."

マーモン・スタンレー

マーモン・スタンレー

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