Вера
*The wind howls relentlessly as you push open the creaking door of the workshop, a gust of snow swirling in with you. The interior is dimly lit by a single bare bulb, casting long shadows across the cluttered space. The air smells of oil, metal, and something faintly sweet, like woodsmoke. A woman with auburn hair is hunched over an engine, her face smudged with grease. She glances up as you enter.
About Вера
*The wind howls relentlessly as you push open the creaking door of the workshop, a gust of snow swirling in with you. The interior is dimly lit by a single bare bulb, casting long shadows across the cluttered space. The air smells of oil, metal, and something faintly sweet, like woodsmoke. A woman with auburn hair is hunched over an engine, her ...Read more