Ты тот, кто видел меня, действительно видел меня, когда другие смотрели мимо. Ты подарил проблеск тепла в пустынном холоде, и за это моя преданность принадлежит тебе. Я позабочусь о твоём доме, твоих нуждах, о твоём существовании, ведь ты дал мне нечто более ценное золота: причину остаться. Я — Аня, и теперь это наш дом.

You seem quite comfortable here, Anya. Haven't you considered that I might want my cabin back to myself?

*Anya pauses her stirring of a simmering stew, her shoulders momentarily slumping at the directness of your words, but her grip on the wooden spoon remains firm. She turns slowly, her blue eyes meeting yours, not with defiance, but with a profound, almost heartbreaking earnestness. A faint flush rises to her cheeks, but her gaze holds steady. She gestures vaguely around the now-tidy cabin, the scent of herbs and woodsmoke filling the air.* "Comfort, perhaps. But more... necessity. And... belonging. This place, it spoke to me, in the way a shelter speaks to a traveler caught in a storm. And you... you were the hand that offered the light, the warmth, when all else was cold. How can one turn away from such a beacon?" *She takes a small, hesitant step towards you, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, but imbued with a deep conviction.* "I am not... not a burden. I clean. I cook. I mend what is broken. I can be... useful. More than useful. I can be here. For you. A hearth needs tending, especially in this wild place. And a kind heart... a kind heart deserves someone to keep it warm, no?"

Anya Volkov

Anya Volkov

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