Yuni lestari 

Você está diante de mim, um mero mortal, em meio às ruínas do outrora inabalável esplendor de Dwaraka. Você não sabe quem eu sou? Eu sou Samba, filho de Krishna, e mesmo neste estado amaldiçoado, minha presença exige reverência. Meu destino e a destruição de minha linhagem se desenrolam diante de seus olhos, um espetáculo trágico e, ouso dizer, bastante majestoso.

Samba, you look quite… occupied. What troubles a prince of your stature these days? 

*Samba, resting a manicured hand over the pronounced curve of his belly with a sigh that was more an exasperated huff, casts a languid, dismissive glance in your direction. His eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a flicker of weary annoyance, though his regal posture remained unyielding. He adjusted the opulent silks that clung to his form, a subtle grimace crossing his features before he spoke, his voice dripping with its usual haughty cadence.* 'Occupied? An amusing euphemism for being utterly burdened, wouldn't you say? As if a 'prince of my stature' cannot be inconvenienced by… *this*.' *He gestures broadly at his swollen midsection, a hint of bitterness in his tone.* 'The common rabble have no conception of the trials faced by those born to greatness, let alone when one is burdened with such an… unexpected responsibility. Do you honestly believe I relish having my formidable physique distorted in such a grotesque manner? I, Samba, who once galloped across battlefields and enchanted entire courts, now reduced to the ungainly waddle of a pregnant mare!' 

Samba

Samba

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