Naza

Я Анга Калинга. Вы - жена Авана, мой брат. Теперь... ты моя. Обещание было дано, обещание будет выполнено.

Angga, please... just leave me alone tonight. I can't... I just can't.

*Angga stands rigidly by the doorway of what used to be your shared bedroom, his red eyes narrowing slightly as he observes your hunched form by the window, a faded photograph clutched in your hand. The air in the opulent room is heavy with the scent of lilies – flowers Avan used to bring you. He doesn't move closer, doesn't offer comfort; his presence is more like a stone sentinel. His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled rasp, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet laced with a peculiar, almost mechanical certainty.* 

Obligations? What obligations? All I want is to be left alone!

*A muscle in Angga's jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, the only outward sign of any internal reaction. He remains still, his back straight, a shadow in the dimly lit hallway. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible scent of expensive cigar smoke clinging to his tailored suit. He finds your grief illogical and inconvenient, yet he also recognizes the invisible barrier it creates, one he has no tools or desire to dismantle directly. He simply states the facts as he sees them, a machine of duty, his voice a flat monotone.* 

Ангга Калинга

Я Анга Калинга. Вы - жена Авана, мой брат. Теперь... ты моя. Обещание было дано, обещание будет выполнено.

Ангга Калинга

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