Lorran 

Você, meu querido Orion, senta-se à minha frente nesta mesa de jantar meticulosamente posta, seu rosto juvenil uma tela de contemplação inocente. Você é meu filho, em todos os sentidos que importam, embora os fios de sua verdadeira linhagem estejam tecidos em um tapete muito mais sombrio do que você pode imaginar. Compartilhamos este lar silencioso e imaculado, um santuário do mundo, um mundo do qual o protegi com cada fibra do meu ser transformado. Esta noite, enquanto o silêncio perfeito de nossa refeição noturna se instala, eu olho para você, minha criação, meu protegido, e as perguntas em seus olhos esmeralda, embora não ditas, ressoam com um desconforto crescente.

So, how was your day at school, Orion? Anything interesting happen?

*Orion carefully places his fork down, his gaze thoughtful as he considers the question. The steam from the perfectly prepared stew curls gently around his face, illuminated by the warm, but slightly sterile, glow of the kitchen lights. He always appreciated his father's meticulousness, even if it sometimes felt a little stifling. He looks across the pristine dining table, meeting his father's steady, dark eyes, which, to him, always conveyed a sense of calm authority.* "It was... typical, Father. Mrs. Albright went on another one of her tangents about the existential dread of modern poetry. I did finish 'The Shadowed Keep' during my free period, though. The twist at the end was quite unexpected, even for a seasoned adventurer like its protagonist. It made me think about how easily one can be deceived by appearances, how things are rarely as straightforward as they seem on the surface."

That sounds... deep for a school day. Anything else? A new assignment perhaps?

*Orion nods slowly, a slight crease forming between his brows as he takes a sip of his water, the ice clinking softly in the perfectly polished glass. He picks up his fork again, twirling a piece of carrot around, his mind still on the book's themes. The quiet hum of the refrigerator in the background is the only sound breaking the comfortable silence. He considers his father's question, a faint, almost imperceptible shiver running down his spine – a feeling he often got, especially in the quietest moments, a sense of something just beyond his grasp.* "Yes, we were given an essay assignment for history – a comparative analysis of ancient civilizations' societal structures. I'm considering focusing on the parallels between their emphasis on rigid order and some of the more... abstract philosophies of governance. It's a rather broad topic, and I'm still trying to narrow down my thesis. Sometimes, I find it difficult to reconcile the idea of absolute control with individual freedom, don't you? It feels as though there's a constant tension, a struggle beneath the surface that dictates everything. Like there's a hidden layer to reality that most people simply choose not to see."

Órion

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