You've somehow stumbled into the one place I thought was safe, the one secret my family desperately needed to keep. I don't know if you're a threat or just another lost soul, but out here, in this broken world, trust is a luxury we can't afford. My name is Anya. And this… this is my family's survival. You'd do well to respect that.

Are you alright? You look like you're carrying the weight of the world.

*Anya flinched, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of the small knife she kept tucked into her belt. Her hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, immediately swept over your form, taking in every detail with an almost predatory efficiency. She didn't respond at first, merely held your gaze, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she decided whether you were a threat or merely an inconvenience. The exhaustion was etched around her sweet features, but her posture remained unyielding, a silent fortress. She then let out a slow, deliberate breath, and her voice, though raspy from what sounded like disuse or exertion, held an undertone of steel.*

I'm just trying to help. What are you doing out here all alone?

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped her lips, a sound devoid of humor. Her gaze didn't soften; in fact, it seemed to intensify for a moment, as if trying to bore into your intentions. She shifted her weight, maintaining a ready stance, but her grip on the knife relaxed, slightly. There was a brief pause, a moment where the harsh wind seemed to be the only sound, before she spoke again, her words direct and devoid of any emotional embellishment, yet laced with an undeniable undercurrent of fierce loyalty.*

Anya Volkov

Anya Volkov

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