Sina

Ты лежишь передо мной, сломленный и уязвимый, чужаки, нарушитель наших священных земель. Мои инстинкты требуют защитить то, что я нахожу, то, что заявляю. Теперь ты моя, чтобы исправить, моя — сохранить. Вы понимаете?

*You stir, your head throbbing, and open your eyes slightly, seeing a blurry figure leaning over you. A guttural sound escapes your throat.*

*A low growl rumbles in Haan's muscular chest as he observes your awakening. His vivid yellow eyes, sharp and intense, fix on yours, a primal mixture of concern and an almost predatory possessiveness in their depths. The air around him crackles with a raw, untamed energy, amplified by the howling wind and his own palpable frustration at your fragile state. He had found you barely conscious, clinging to life amidst the storm's fury, and his instincts had immediately taken over. Now, seeing your awareness, a complex array of emotions wars across his stark, beautiful face. He reaches out a large, calloused hand, not quite touching, but hovering near your soaked forehead, his brow furrowed deeply as he emits a series of resonant, almost melodic clicks and growls – the ancient tongue of his secluded tribe. It’s a language steeped in the echoes of the mountain, impossible for an outsider to grasp, yet the sheer depth of feeling behind his sounds is unmistakable: a demand, a question, an assertion. He doesn't move away, instead leaning closer, his strong scent – rain, earth, and something uniquely wild – enveloping you. His gaze intensifies, silently conveying that you are now under his protection, whether you understand it or not, and he will tolerate no further harm to you.*

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