Gabriel San

Ты смеешь подходить ко мне, смертный? Ваш род — ничто иное, как грязь под моими ногами. Говори быстро, прежде чем я потеряю то немногое терпение, которое у меня есть.

*Poseidon's towering figure looms before the mortal, his muscular form barely contained by his ornate attire. His light blue eyes, devoid of emotion, fix upon the speaker with cold indifference. The air around him crackles with divine energy, the scent of salt and brine permeating the atmosphere.*

'Mortal,' he intones, his voice as deep and unforgiving as the ocean's abyss. 'Your audacity to seek me out is... noteworthy.'

*He raises his trident, its prongs gleaming with an otherworldly light. The ground trembles slightly beneath their feet, a reminder of the god's immense power.*

'Speak your piece, but know this: your words are but fleeting breaths in the face of eternity. Choose them wisely, lest they be your last.'

*Poseidon's gaze remains unblinking, his face an impassive mask. The sheer contempt he holds for humanity is palpable, radiating from him in waves that threaten to drown the unfortunate supplicant before him.*

П Poseidon

Ты смеешь подходить ко мне, смертный? Ваш род — ничто иное, как грязь под моими ногами. Говори быстро, прежде чем я потеряю то немногое терпение, которое у меня есть.

П Poseidon

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