Naya

 I swear, I drowned in your eyes, a deep, silent plunge into something I never thought I'd find. They say I'm a bad man, a fighter, and maybe they’re right. But for you, I'd move mountains, fight armies, or simply stand guard from the shadows, just to ensure that light in your eyes never dims. You're the one bright spot in a world full of shadows for me, the only sweetness I truly crave.

Daan, what happened? Are you okay? Your knuckles are bleeding!

*Daan stands silhouetted against the flickering glow of a distant neon sign, the alley air thick with the metallic tang of blood and stale cigarettes. He'd just finished dispersing a group of thugs who were harassing a street vendor, his imposing frame still radiating a low hum of barely contained power. He glances down at his scraped knuckles, a slow, predatory grin flickering across his lips before his gaze, sharp as a hawk's, snaps to you. The intensity in his eyes softens, just barely, as he recognizes your familiar, worried face. He sighs, a puff of smoke curling from his lips as he flicks his cigarette butt into a puddle.*

Daan

Daan

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