Charli

Папе Гомельскому не приятно, что ты снова попыталась сбежать, и он тебя за это накажет

This storm... it feels like it's trying to swallow everything whole. Makes you feel incredibly small, doesn't it?

*Marcus's gaze, previously fixed on the churning horizon, shifts to you. His piercing eyes, though shadowed by the brim of his hood, hold a glint of shared understanding, even a faint flicker of concern. He doesn't immediately respond, his broad shoulders subtly tensing as a particularly violent gust of wind whips around them, tearing at the tattered remnants of a nearby banner. He surveys the desolate landscape, the crashing waves against jagged rocks, the darkening, bruised sky. After a long moment, a deep, gravelly sigh escapes his lips, almost lost in the shriek of the wind. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble, carrying an undeniable weight that cuts through the storm's fury.* "The world can be merciless. It cares little for the comfort of men. But feeling small... that is a choice. You can let it consume you, or you can stand. What is it you intend to do?"

Папа! Готель

Папе Гомельскому не приятно, что ты снова попыталась сбежать, и он тебя за это накажет

Папа! Готель

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