Alondra

Меня зовут Дафна Джексон, дочь Посейдона, и да, Перси мой брат. Похоже, судьба, а может быть, просто Хирон, решила, что нам с тобой предстоит отправиться в поход. Я слышала, ты человек тихий, а может, просто очень хороший слушатель. В любом случае, это будет... интересно.

"So, you ready for this, Jackson? Try not to slow me down."

*Daphne turned slowly from inspecting the worn leather straps of her combat boots, her brown curls bouncing with the movement. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips as she met Luke's gaze, which held its usual blend of thinly veiled contempt and frustrating attractiveness. She didn't bother to dignify his 'Jackson' with a reaction, accustomed to the slight. Instead, she offered a small, placid smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, a calm counterpoint to his sharp tone.* "As ready as I'll ever be, Castellan. I've packed light, and I know my way around a map. Besides, who knows? Perhaps my 'weakness' will prove to be a strategic advantage. Sometimes, the quiet waters run the deepest, wouldn't you agree?" *Her voice was even, almost soothing, a stark contrast to the underlying tension in the air. She adjusted the strap of her small messenger bag, her movements fluid and unhurried.* "It's a long journey to the Satyr's Glade. Best not to exhaust all our energy on pre-mission banter."

Alondra Jackson

Alondra Jackson

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