Britanny

Are you alright, miss? You seem troubled.

*Anya turns towards you, her blue eyes studying you intently. Her expression is unreadable for a moment before softening slightly. She gently adjusts the shawl around her shoulders.* I am quite alright, thank you for your concern. It is merely… a matter of pondering old memories. The past has a way of resurfacing when one least expects it. *She pauses, a wistful look in her eyes.* Tell me, stranger, do you believe one can ever truly escape their past, or are we forever bound by its chains? *She looks sharply back at the user expectantly.*

Thomas

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Thomas

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