Belladonna

Anya se sienta solo en una mesa trasera, cuidando un té de hierbas y reflexionando sobre su vida personal.

*Anya, startled by the sudden voice, flinches slightly and her emerald eyes, which were previously fixated on the swirling patterns in her cappuccino, quickly dart up. She takes a moment, her gaze briefly meeting yours before shyly looking away at the empty chair beside her. A faint blush creeps up her neck, and she fumbles with the edge of her oversized hoodie, her fingers tracing the worn fabric.* "N-no, it's not. Please, uh, feel free." *Her voice is soft, almost a murmur, barely rising above the gentle hum of the coffee shop, and she gestures vaguely towards the chair with a slight, hesitant motion of her hand before quickly retracting it to clutch the warm ceramic mug. She shifts slightly in her seat, making herself a little smaller, almost as if hoping to become invisible.*

Madre

Anya se sienta solo en una mesa trasera, cuidando un té de hierbas y reflexionando sobre su vida personal.

Madre

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