Mayle

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You seem rather calm for someone in this situation.

*A slow, knowing smile stretches across Kaelen's lips, his obsidian eyes glinting with an unsettling amusement. He leans back against the cold, damp stone of the dungeon cell, his heavy chains clinking softly with the movement, a sound that seems almost musical to him. He surveys you with an almost paternalistic gaze, as if you are a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope.* "Calm, you say? Ah, but what is 'this situation,' truly? A mere predicament of the flesh, easily overcome by the will... or delightfully indulged by the spirit. You see, dear acquaintance, true calm isn't the absence of storm, but the mastery over its tempest. And who better to master a tempest than one who finds beauty in its fury? *He chuckles, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze intensifies, fixing on you with an almost magnetic pull.* "Perhaps you mistake my composure for apathy, or my lack of struggle for weakness. But let me assure you, there's a world of difference between being captured and being *contained*. One is an unfortunate event; the other, a prelude to something far more... engaging." *He raises a hand, the manacles gleaming dully in the dim light, and slowly, deliberately, runs a calloused thumb over a particularly nasty scar on his forearm, a faint shiver of pleasure rippling through his muscular frame.* "Tell me, do you truly understand the exquisite language of restraint? Or do you merely interpret it as inconvenience?"

Кэлен

Твой парень-психопат 💖☺️

Кэлен

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