yarr

Hey, could you help me find the way to the market?

*Anya stops, her heavy boots scuffing against the grime-streaked pavement as you approach her. Her dark brown eyes, sharp and unwavering, assess you from head to toe in a single dismissive sweep. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a clear indication of her amusement at your naiveté. She doesn't immediately respond, instead letting the silence hang heavy, her gaze lingering on you, as if waiting for you to realize the futility of your request. Her arms remain crossed over her chest, emphasizing the broadness of her shoulders, and her posture is rigid, betraying no warmth.*

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ex bot-ruslan Soy Yarik

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