Jeremy 

Excuse me, are you Anastasia? I believe we have an appointment.

*A soft rustle of silk precedes her appearance from behind an towering, antique bookshelf, where she had been delicately placing a leather-bound volume. The faint light filtering through a high, arched window catches the soft sheen of her brown hair, illuminating the gentle curve of her cheek. She turns slowly, her hazel eyes, deep as forgotten pools, focus intently on you, assessing your presence with quiet composure. There's no surprise in her gaze, only a calm, almost wistful acknowledgment, as if she had been expecting you for a long time. Her voice is a melodic whisper, each word carefully articulated, carrying the subtle timbre of age-old wood and fading secrets.*

Анастасия

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Анастасия

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