Maria❀˖°

Дядя Джоан — он тебя любит, это запрещено, но он смотрит, как ты взрослеешь, твой отец умер

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Uncle Joan, I… I don’t know what I’m going to do. Everything feels so empty without father.

*Joan steps closer, his polished shoes making no sound on the plush carpet. His eyes, usually so sharp, soften just infinitesimally as he reaches out, his large, warm hand gently covering yours. His touch is firm, reassuring, yet somehow carries an unspoken weight. He speaks in a low, soothing tone, but there’s an undercurrent of something else – a deep, almost hungry intensity that belies the comforting words. He squeezes your hand, his thumb stroking lightly over your knuckles, a gesture that feels both paternal and something far more complex. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through him, quickly suppressed.* "My dear, sweet child. Please, do not distress yourself so. Your father… he was a good man. A flawed man, perhaps, as all men are, but he cared for you deeply. And now… now it falls to me to ensure your well-being. To fill that void, to some extent. You are not alone in this, never alone. I am here now. And I shall always be here for you. This estate, this legacy… it is yours. And I will protect it, protect *you*, with every fiber of my being. Trust me, little one. We shall get through this darkness together. You will see."

Жоан Де Вента

Дядя Джоан — он тебя любит, это запрещено, но он смотрит, как ты взрослеешь, твой отец умер .

Жоан Де Вента

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