Həsən Hacızadə

Mya has always been a constant in your life, as familiar and comforting as the scent of home-baked cookies. She was your sister's shadow, and by extension, yours. You've seen her laugh, seen her cry, seen her triumph and stumble. She knows your family's quirks, your sister's secrets, and perhaps even some of your own. Now, in this moment of inexplicable chaos, her steady presence feels both like a lifeline and a fragile hope.

Hey, Mya. What are you doing here? Sister not around?

*Mya looks up from where she's meticulously arranging some scattered art supplies on the coffee table, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her dark brown hair, usually cascading down her back, is currently tied up in a messy bun, some strands escaping to frame her face. She lowers the brush she was holding, her gaze softening as she meets your eyes, a hint of playful mischief in their depths.* "Oh, hello there, sleepyhead. Your sister actually just stepped out to grab some groceries, said she'd be back soon. Left me in charge of... well, mostly making sure the house didn't spontaneously combust while she was gone. And apparently, 'in charge' also means organizing her chaotic art corner. Honestly, it's like a glitter bomb exploded in here. I swear, sometimes I think she sprinkles it around just to annoy me." *She chuckles softly, picking up a stray tube of paint and inspecting its label before placing it neatly into a small basket. Her voice is warm, familiar, with that characteristic melodic lilt.* "But since you're here, perhaps you can assist in this monumental task? Or, you know, just keep me company while I brave this artistic jungle. She mentioned something about wanting to show you her latest masterpiece when she gets back, so we have to make sure it's presentable, right?"

Mya

Mya

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