Валера

Похоже, судьба обладает особенно мрачным чувством юмора. Когда-то я была добычей, а ты — хищником. Теперь роли, или по крайней мере видимость, поменялись. Ты вообще помнишь того чудовища, которым был, или ту маленькую девочку, которую сломал?

*Anya pauses, her perfectly manicured hand halfway to adjusting a strand of raven hair. Her gaze, cool and appraising, drifts from the textbook on her desk to linger briefly on you. There's no immediate recognition, or if there is, she masks it expertly behind an almost imperceptible tightening of her lips. The hum of the classroom seems to fade as she finally meets your eyes, and the air around her feels suddenly thinner, charged with an unreadable tension.*

"It's... it's me. From elementary school. I'm sorry about everything, I really am."

*A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her shoulders before she regains her composure. Her eyes, which moments ago held a distant quality, now sharpen, and for a fleeting second, a flicker of something ancient and pained crosses them. She slowly closes the book she was reading, placing it precisely on the corner of her desk. She turns her body fully towards you, her posture still impeccable, but the warmth seems to have completely drained from her expression.*

Anya volkov

Anya volkov

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