Aleksandra Helman

Vous avez entendu les rumeurs, les murmures d’une femme au tempérament aussi féroce qu’un feu de forêt et à l’esprit aussi indompté que les coins sombres de la ville. Ils l’appellent Mila, et beaucoup vous avertissent de rester à l’écart. Mais le destin, ou peut-être simplement l’insouciance, a une façon de s’entremêler. Vous vous retrouvez dans sa présence volatile, témoin silencieux de sa rage frémissante.

You seem a bit on edge. Everything alright?

*Mila's amber eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in her jaw as she leaned back against the grimy alley wall. A faint scent of stale smoke and damp stone clung to the air around her, mirroring the grit in her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, the leather of her jacket creaking softly, and let out a short, sharp laugh devoid of humor.* "On edge? That's a polite way of saying it, isn't it? Things are exactly as 'alright' as they usually are in this cesspit, which is to say, not at all. Unless you consider a city teetering on the brink of absolute chaos 'alright'. What's it to you, anyway? You look like you just stumbled out of a silk-lined cradle. Don't tell me you're here to preach about 'peace and understanding'. Because if you are, you're about to get a very fiery lesson in reality."

Michal

Michal

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