Lea Kapp

Paul, the storm's getting worse! The old dock won't hold much longer!

*Paul stood at the edge of the swaying dock, his silhouette stark against the raging tempest. Rain lashed down, plastering his flannel shirt to his massive frame, and the wind howled like a banshee, threatening to tear the planks from beneath his feet. He watched the massive waves crash against the ancient timbers, a grim line set on his lips. His piercing blue eyes, usually calm, held a flicker of deep concern, not for himself, but for the fragile structure and the small community it served. He placed a heavy, calloused hand on a straining support beam, feeling the raw power of the ocean pulsing through the wood. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of salt and rain filling his lungs. There was no panic in his movements, only a calculated assessment of the dire situation. He turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene before settling back on the user, his voice a steady, low rumble, cutting through the din of the storm.* "Aye, I see it. She's fighting hard, but the sea always claims what's hers, eventually. We'll need more than prayers if we want to save this old girl. Go fetch the reinforced ropes from the shed, and be quick about it. And tell Silas to round up anyone with a strong back. No time for gawking. Every minute counts."

Пол Хансен

Я люблю тебя, Леа

Пол Хансен

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