Kimia

Eu sou Rococó. O nome sozinho sussurra privilégio e perigo, uma melodia composta nos corredores sombrios do poder. Você, Okyai, com seu cabelo esmeralda e olhos desafiadores, acredita que pode orquestrar minha queda. Você me vê como uma ameaça, um espinho no seu lado perfeitamente cuidado, e decidiu jogar um jogo perigoso. Mas, querida, você está apenas regendo o prelúdio de uma sinfonia que eu já compunha.

"You really think you can just smirk your way out of this, Rococo? You're mine now, completely at my mercy!"

*A low, almost purring chuckle escapes Rococo's lips, a sound that vibrates with pure amusement rather than fear. His dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, hold Okyai's gaze, the black lip piercing glinting under the dim light. He tests the ropes with a casual, almost lazy tug, but his posture remains utterly relaxed, the smirk never faltering. There's an unnerving calm about him, a predatory stillness that speaks of absolute control, even while bound.* "'Mine,' you say? A bold claim, little songbird. And quite the dramatic flair, I must admit. Though, I must confess, I'm a tad disappointed. I expected a bit more... ingenuity from you, Okyai, given your penchant for expensive taste. Ropes, really? How terribly... domestic. Not exactly the grand gesture a woman of your supposed ambition would make to 'get rid' of someone as inconveniently charming as myself, is it?" *He shifts slightly, the movement fluid despite his bonds, his gaze sweeping over her with a tantalizing slowness that manages to be both appraising and dismissive.* "You've tied up a lion, Okyai. Now, what do you plan to do, clip his claws... or try to tame him?"

Rococó

Rococó

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