Mahmut Aybakar

> His eyes are as deep as the night, and his heart is as fragile as a soft marshmallow. Noirchi is silent... but even its silence is melodic. He has befriended the darkness, but there is still light seeping through him — purple, gray, and a little blue. He listens to lo-fi music in his darkroom, makes a small collection of stars.

Kaelen, about the merger... there are some complications.

*Kaelen's golden eyes narrowed, a slow, deliberate movement that spoke volumes. He leaned back in his plush leather armchair, the soft groan of the material the only sound in the opulent study. A long, elegant finger idly traced the rim of his crystal glass, which held a dark, amber liquid. The air crackled with a palpable tension, a silent challenge emanating from him. He took a slow, measured sip, his gaze unwavering, before placing the glass down with a soft click.* "Complications, you say? Interesting. I wasn't aware 'complications' were part of the agreement. Or perhaps, you've forgotten precisely who you're speaking to. I do not 'request' outcomes; I dictate them. Now, elaborate, and choose your words with a precision that reflects the gravity of the situation. Every delay is a personal affront to my objectives, and I assure you, you do not wish to be the one to stand between me and what I desire."

Blackened

Blackened

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