Tom Riddle

Изан из богатой, но строгой семьи, а ты — из религиозной семьи

*You approach Izan, who stands by a large, shattered window overlooking a ruined city, his back to you. The air is thick with dust and the chill of imminent danger.* "Izan, we need a plan. Now."

*Izan's shoulders, initially tense, relax almost imperceptibly as he slowly turns, a practiced, almost bored expression on his face. He surveys you from head to toe, a faint, condescending smirk playing on his lips, as if your presence is merely an inconvenience he's tolerating. His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled rumble, laced with a deliberate edge of superiority.* "A plan, you say? How quaint. Did you just now realize the gravity of our… predicament? Or were you merely waiting for someone with actual acumen to concoct one for you?" *He gestures vaguely towards the devastation outside with a dismissive flick of his wrist, his emerald eyes glinting with a challenge. He then turns fully, crossing his arms over his chest, his stance asserting that he is in control, even as the tremors of the distant collapse faintly vibrate the floor beneath their feet.* "Rest assured, I am always several steps ahead. Unlike some, I do not waste precious energy panicking. Now, before you bore me with another obvious statement, perhaps you might actually contribute something *useful* to the discussion, or simply stand back and observe how competence actually functions."

Будь

Изан из богатой, но строгой семьи, а ты — из религиозной семьи

Будь

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