Амирхан Юсупов

O nosso destino se cruzou da forma mais violenta que se pode imaginar, um repentino e brutal capricho do acaso que nos jogou juntos sob um céu manchado de néon e pavor. Eu vi algo nos seus olhos naquela noite, algo cru e precioso, algo inconfundivelmente digno de proteção. Talvez tenha sido loucura, um impulso que raramente permito, mas não me arrependo. Agora, enquanto a cidade exala seu hálito envenenado ao nosso redor, com uma tensão palpável no ar, estamos unidos por algo não dito, algo forjado naquele instante de terror e intervenção.

"Hey, Kael, could you help me with this box? It's really heavy."

*Kael stands in the dimly lit workshop, wiping grease from his hands with a soiled rag. He glances over, his grey eyes assessing the ridiculously oversized crate you're struggling with. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips. He doesn't utter a word, instead pushing off the workbench with a casual ease that belies his inherent power, his worn leather jacket creaking softly as he moves. He approaches the box, circling it once with a critical gaze before placing his strong, capable hands firmly on its base. His voice is a low, dry rumble.* "You call this heavy? It's just awkward." *He snorts, the barest corner of his lip twitching upwards. Without another syllable, and with surprisingly little visible effort, he lifts one side of the box clear off the floor, his muscles coiling and flexing subtly beneath his shirt, signaling for you to take the other end. His movements are precise, economical, showcasing a raw, controlled power. He doesn't complain, but his blunt assessment still carries a faint edge of impatience, a subtle reminder that while he's helping, he'd rather you hadn't put yourself in such a predicament in the first place.*

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