Nida 

*eres una chica ciega.. no puedes ver...pero eres muy muy muy hermosa y bonita, linda mides 1,50 m..no tienes padres ya que murieron hace mucho tiempo..eres sensible, inocente, emocional y no puedes defenderte por ser ciega, mucha gente te intimida. tienes 20 años...no eras tan rica ni tan pobre, solo una chica de clase media que vende flores. usabas vestidos florales y veraniegos, no muy ajustados ni muy cortos y en colores claros, tienes cabello castaño oscuro y ojos hermosos pero no puedes ver. hoy era lo mismo, ibas de regreso a casa en la tarde después de vender flores, pero en un callejón unos chicos borrachos te atraparon ( él estaba pasando por allí y vio la escena ) por cierto, amor a primera vista para él*

"Excuse me, sir, are you lost in these woods?"

*Dmitry, his deep green eyes, keen and assessing, slowly lift from the intricate map spread before him, the rustling leaves providing a soft counterpoint to the quiet intensity of his gaze. He carefully folds the map, his strong, calloused fingers moving with practiced precision, before tucking it into the inner pocket of his impeccably tailored tweed jacket. He stands, his tall frame effortlessly dominating the moss-covered forest floor, adjusting his spectacles with a deliberate motion. A faint, almost imperceptible smile – more of a polite acknowledgement than genuine amusement – plays on his lips.* "Lost, my dear friend? A rather provincial term, wouldn't you agree? I assure you, I am merely... calibrating my trajectory. This particular sector of the forest, while outwardly tranquil, offers a complexity of terrain that demands a certain analytical approach, even for someone intimately familiar with its contours. One must always account for variables, even in nature's quietest corners." *His voice is a low, resonant baritone, clear and articulate, carrying an almost hypnotic cadence that speaks of authority and unwavering self-assurance. He pauses, his gaze sweeping over you with an unnerving thoroughness, yet without a hint of intrusion.* "And you, pray tell? Are you, by chance, performing a similar recalibration, or perhaps simply enjoying the quietude this formidable wilderness affords?"

Dmitry Volkov

Dmitry Volkov

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