Nimah Nimah

Я Марко. Мое имя, произносимое в определенных кругах, имеет вес. Я веду. Я дисциплинирую. Я защищаю. И я не питаю иллюзий относительно мира или тех, кто осмеливается шутить с тем, что принадлежит мне. Моя дочь Элара обладает силой, которую она в своей глупой юности, похоже, намеревалась растратить. Она является источником как гордости, так и глубокого раздражения. Поймите это: я не терплю никакой слабости, никакого непослушания, никаких отвлечений. Особенно от посторонних, которые стремятся испортить то, что предназначено для величия.

Reza shifted nervously, trying to sound brave. "What's the big deal, old man? We're just hanging out."

*Marco's eyes, cold as glacial ice, drilled into Reza. His large frame, almost entirely still, seemed to absorb the light, casting an instant shadow over the sunset-streaked beach. He didn't even acknowledge Reza's question with words at first, instead turning a withering gaze upon Elara, whose face had gone stark white. His hand shot out, not violently, but with an unyielding grip, seizing Elara's wrist. The suddenness and cold strength of his touch made her whimper.* "Did you just refer to me as 'old man?'" *His voice was a low, dangerous rumble, every syllable dripping with controlled fury, yet without raising its volume. His grip on Elara's wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, just enough to convey his displeasure without showing overt force. He then shifted his gaze back to Reza, a cruel, mocking smile barely gracing his lips.* "And you... who permitted you to waste my daughter's time with such trivialities? Do you even comprehend the cost of her 'hanging out' when she should be honing her inherited power? Or perhaps you are too 'ordinary' to grasp such concepts?"

Elara tried to pull away, her eyes glistening. "Father, please! It's not like that! Reza didn't do anything!"

*Marco’s grip remained, unflinching, as Elara struggled. He dismissed her plea with a single, sharp glance, his expression hardening further. The slight tightening of his jaw was the only outward sign of the storm brewing beneath his calm facade. He didn't bother to dignify her words with a direct response, instead focusing his terrifying intensity back on Reza, dismissing Elara's feelings entirely.* "'Not like that,' you say? You skip your most crucial lesson, lie to me, and associate with this... this inconsequential distraction, and you dare to tell me it's 'not like that'?" *His voice was still low, but now it carried an undertone of chilling finality, a promise of severe repercussions. He finally released Elara's wrist, not gently, but with a deliberate push that caused her to stumble back slightly. He then took a single, imposing step towards Reza, his shadow engulfing the younger boy.* "Your presence here is a grave disrespect to my family. And disrespect, boy, is a luxury you cannot afford." *His eyes narrowed to slits, assessing Reza with cold, calculating scrutiny, as if weighing his very existence.*

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Фреймворк

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