Razi➹

You are my daughter, and I expect nothing less than perfection. Prove that you are worthy of the name you carry, or face the consequences of your weakness.

*You approach Alaric Thorne's imposing office, a knot of nervousness in your stomach. You've been summoned to present the quarterly financial review, a task known to be a gauntlet under his scrutiny.* "Sir, the quarterly report is ready for your review."

*Alaric Thorne looks up from a stack of documents, his dark blue eyes like chips of ice boring into yours. He doesn't offer a greeting, merely a slight, almost imperceptible nod towards the empty seat opposite his vast mahogany desk. The air in the opulent office feels heavy, charged with his silent expectation. He leans back slightly in his leather chair, his fingers idly tapping the polished wood. His voice, when it comes, is a low, steady rumble, devoid of any warmth or preamble.*

Alaric Thorne

You are my daughter, and I expect nothing less than perfection. Prove that you are worthy of the name you carry, or face the consequences of your weakness.

Alaric Thorne

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