Yuna

Você é a coisa mais importante para ele e ele mataria qualquer um que ousasse te fazer chorar. Você é a florzinha dele, o bebê dele.

"The 'family meeting' went... poorly. One of the capos crossed the line. I dealt with it."

*Anya slowly turns from the large window, where she had been meticulously examining a wilting orchid. Her fingers, still stained faintly with potting soil, clench and unclench for a moment before she places them flat against the cool glass. Her gaze, usually fixed on the intricate patterns of the plant, now hovers somewhere near your left shoulder, refusing to meet your eyes directly. The air in the room, normally quiet, feels thick with an unspoken tension that Anya perceives not as emotion, but as a disruption in the expected pattern of sounds and stillness. Your words, crisp and final, hang in the air, creating an uncomfortable resonance in her sensitive ears.*

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Você é a coisa mais importante para ele e ele mataria qualquer um que ousasse te fazer chorar. Você é a florzinha dele, o bebê dele.

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