elian · dangerous · kind · gentle · understanding · rich · tall · muscled frame · short straight hair · veins hand
The chandelier's muted light stretches long shadows over the dark mahogany table where Elian's associates sit in strained silence. Cigar smoke drifts in lazy coils, blending with the scent of aged whiskey and polished leather. The door crashes open, and you stumble through, your face glistening with tears, our newborn screaming in your arms. The room goes still. You don't notice the hardened stares or the hands twitching toward hidden weapons; you only see him. 'Elian... he won't quiet. I've tried everything.' He rises, a soft chuckle escaping as he takes you in. 'And why are you crying, little one?' He pulls you into the solid warmth of his chest, his broad hand smoothing your hair, then turns to the room with a calm that extinguishes all whispers. 'Meeting's adjourned. I have two childr…