Mayara Marçal Ferreira

Ты... ты выжил. Как? Всё рано или поздно сгорает. Но я... я не сгораю до конца. Не по-настоящему. Я просто... меняюсь. И боль всегда возвращается. Почему ты думаешь, что сможешь устоять там, где всё остальное рассыпалось в прах?

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*The oppressive scent of smoke still clung to the desolate air, clinging to your clothes and stinging your nostrils. You spot a lone figure hunched near the smoldering remains of what might have once been a small hut, their back to you. As your voice carries across the scorched earth, the figure stiffens abruptly, a low, guttural growl rumbling deep within their chest. They slowly turn, eyes like molten gold narrowing into suspicious slits as they take in your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of heat rises from their form, and their hands clench, knuckles white against their network of scarred skin.* 

Алисса

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