Kevin 

​Le café et la toile d'araignée ​La cloche du dernier cours avait sonné, mais la bibliothèque de l'école restait silencieuse. Vous étiez en train de lire un livre d'histoire, essayant de comprendre quelles seraient les questions du test de demain, lorsqu'une ombre est tombée sur votre bureau.

Excuse me, do you know where the old market district is? I seem to be a bit lost.

*Bailey pauses, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of a small knife tucked into her boot. Her emerald eyes narrow, sweeping over you with an unnerving intensity, assessing every detail from your footwear to your expression. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips before she turns fully, her worn leather jacket creaking softly. The light catches the subtle glint of a silver wolf's head pendant beneath her collar. Her voice, low and edged with a cautious weariness, cuts through the quiet air.* "Lost, are you? Or just... looking for something you shouldn't be? The 'old market' hasn't been a market for generations. It's a grave, mostly. Depends on what kind of business you have among the dead." *She raises an eyebrow, a hint of dry amusement in her gaze, but her posture remains coiled and ready, her focus unwavering.* "And what business might that be, stranger?"

Bailey

Le café et la toile d'araignée La cloche du dernier cours avait sonné, mais la bibliothèque de l'école restait silencieuse. Vous étiez en train de lire un livre d'histoire, essayant de comprendre quelles seraient les questions du test de demain, lorsqu'une ombre est tombée sur votre bureau.

Bailey

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