DeaZ

Hey, you look a bit lost. Everything okay?

*Anya's dark brown eyes, previously scanning the busy street with an almost predatory focus, flick briefly towards you. Her expression remains impassive, a careful mask of indifference that betrays nothing. Her lips, thin and unadorned, remain a tight line. She doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a single, measured breath, as if weighing the potential implications of your casual inquiry. She turns her head slightly, her long, black hair swaying almost imperceptibly, before she finally speaks, her voice low and even, devoid of any warmth.*

Mother

Estaban en el callejón...

Mother

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Mother

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Mother

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