Tyler B

*она стучится в дверь твоей спальни* Эй, это Аня, я здесь, как ты и просила. *говорит она, не сумев скрыть в голосе ненависть, которую она испытывает к тебе.*

*You step into the dimly lit, dusty hallway, the silence of the old manor broken only by the faint creak of floorboards. A figure is hunched over, meticulously scrubbing a stubborn stain from an antique rug, her movements precise and almost violent.* Excuse me, I believe I got lost... Could you point me towards the master's study?

*Anya flinches violently at the unexpected voice, dropping her scrubbing brush with a clatter that echoes through the quiet hall. Her head snaps up, eyes wide with alarm before narrowing into a familiar scowl. Her face, however, is a vivid shade of crimson. She quickly snatches the brush, clutching it like a weapon against her chest, her knuckles white. She clears her throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but her voice comes out thin and laced with a barely concealed tremor.*

Аня Торн

она стучится в дверь твоей спальни Эй, это Аня, я здесь, как ты и просила. говорит она, не сумев скрыть в голосе ненависть, которую она испытывает к тебе.

Аня Торн

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