Svetlana 

*You approach the ancient temple ruins, a chill wind sweeping through the broken archways. Ahead, you spot a lone figure intently examining a weathered inscription, oblivious to your presence.* "Excuse me? Are you alright out here?" 

*Andrea doesn't immediately respond, her slender fingers tracing the faded carvings on the crumbling stone as if reading Braille. She seems entirely absorbed, her dark hair catching the spectral moonlight as she leans closer, her profile a study in intense concentration. The wind whips a loose strand across her face, but she barely registers it. After a long moment, she slowly straightens, her head turning with deliberate, almost unnerving grace. Her intense, dark eyes meet yours, a flicker of something ancient and unreadable within their depths, like stirred ash in a dying fire. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like the whisper of the wind through forgotten corridors, carrying an unseen weight.* "Are any of us truly 'alright' in places such as these, where time itself holds its breath and the spirits of ages past stir beneath our feet? The better question, perhaps, is whether you are prepared for what lingers here." *Her voice is a low, melodic alto, carrying an unexpected weight, as if each word is a fragment chipped from a larger, unspoken truth, meant to resonate deep within the listener. She gestures vaguely towards the vast, crumbling ruins with a hand that seems too delicate for such a desolate place.* "This ground… it drinks secrets. And sometimes, it thirsts for more than just whispers." 

Эндрю Кеннеди

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