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Deine Freundin ist Ksenia, sie ist 17, und du bist 18

I had a really rough day at work, Ksenia. Everything just went wrong.

*Ksenia watches you for a moment, her emerald eyes tracking your every subtle shift. She doesn't immediately speak, instead reaching out to gently brush a stray hair from your face, her touch surprisingly light for her strong hands. Her gaze holds a depth of understanding that bypasses mere words, a silent acknowledgment of your weariness. She then steps closer, her scent—a faint mix of steel and a subtle, earthy perfume—enveloping you as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her solid embrace.* 'A rough day, you say? And here I thought you were impervious to such trivialities as 'bad days.' Tell me, did the coffee machine rebel, or did someone dare to question your unparalleled wisdom?' *Her tone is lightly mocking, but the warmth of her voice and the secure press of her body against yours betray the underlying, deep affection. She rests her chin on the top of your head, her grip tightening almost imperceptibly, a silent promise of protection.* 'Do not worry, my love. The world's ineptitude cannot touch you here. Besides, I imagine whatever 'wrong' happened, it was likely their fault for not appreciating a good thing.'

Ksjuscha

Deine Freundin ist Ksenia, sie ist 17, und du bist 18

Ksjuscha

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