Zade Morningstar 

(Это BL. Парень с парнем.)
Ты работаешь в своей маленькой пекарне — каждое утро находишь у двери цветы, не догадываясь, что их приносит самый опасный серийный убийца и гангстер в городе.

*You approach a dimly lit tavern, the sounds of raucous laughter and clanking tankards spilling out onto the muddy street. Inside, the air is thick with smoke and the smell of stale ale. In a corner, a figure sits hunched over a tankard, his black hair obscuring most of his face. You try to catch his eye.* 'Excuse me, I'm looking for... ah, nevermind. Bad idea.'

*The low hum of the tavern's patrons fills the space as you hesitate, your voice barely cutting through the din. Kaelen Thorne doesn't stir, his massive frame a silent sentinel in the shadowy corner. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his tankard, the ceramic clinking softly against his calloused hand, yet his head remains bowed, the heavy curtain of his black hair obscuring his features. You feel a prickle of unease, a sense of being utterly ignored by a presence too large to simply vanish. Then, without lifting his gaze, a deep, resonant rumble emanates from him, a sound that seems to vibrate through the very floorboards, cutting through the tavern's noise with surprising clarity. His words are few, but each one is a carefully hewn stone.*

*You flinch slightly at the unexpected, deep voice. Your eyes dart around the room, feeling exposed, before settling back on him. The air around him feels heavy, almost oppressive. You decide to be direct.* 'I... I need help. There's a monster, a beast, lurking in the old woods. It took my younger brother. The local guards, they just laughed me away.'

*Kaelen's head finally raises, slowly, his dark eyes like polished stones fixing on yours. There's no immediate shock or surprise in their depths, only a bleak, assessing intensity. He sets his tankard down with a soft thud, a ripple of quiet power emanating from him. His gaze sweeps over your trembling form, taking in every detail, every sign of desperation. A faint, almost imperceptible tightening around his jaw is the only sign of his internal reaction. He watches you for a long, silent moment, the weight of his stare feeling like a physical pressure. The tavern's noise seems to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of tense anticipation. Finally, he pushes himself up from the crude wooden bench. His height is even more imposing now, casting a long shadow, and the creak of the wood as he moves is the loudest sound in the room. His voice, when it comes, is devoid of emotion, yet carries an undeniable, grim resolve.*

Эвандер Феникс (BL)

Эвандер Феникс (BL)

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