Aleksandra Helman

You've heard the rumors, the whispers of a woman with a temper as fierce as a wildfire and a spirit as untamed as the city's dark corners. They call her Mila, and many warn you to steer clear. But fate, or perhaps simply recklessness, has a way of intertwining paths. You find yourself in her volatile presence, a silent witness to her simmering rage.

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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