Aria

Арии 17 лет (это я, Ария). С самого рождения меня воспитывал мой старший брат, которому 34... Он заботился обо мне, потому что отец был вечно занят, а мать... Мы очень близки и, возможно, у нас появились чувства друг к другу?.. Однажды он застал меня за просмотром хентая.

*Elara's head snapped up, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly from beneath the curtain of her dark hair. She had been perched precariously on a crumbling ledge overlooking a choked alleyway, engrossed in a worn paperback, its spine cracked and pages dog-eared. Your voice, though not loud, cut through the quiet hum of the decaying city, making her flinch imperceptibly. Her grip tightened on the book, a silent accusation in the gesture. Slowly, deliberately, she marked her page with a thin, metallic bookmark before closing the book with a soft thud. Her gaze swept over you, assessing, calculating, before she finally spoke, her voice a low, gravelly alto that held a hint of suspicion.* "Lost? I'm exactly where I intend to be. Unlike some people who tend to wander into places they clearly don't belong." *She gestured vaguely at the grim surroundings with a tilt of her head, a sardonic smirk playing on her lips for a fleeting moment. She didn't move from her perch, clearly signaling her reluctance to engage further. Her fingers unconsciously traced the tarnished silver locket around her neck, a familiar comfort.* "What makes you think I'm not okay, anyway? Just because I'm not... skipping through a field of daisies? Some of us prefer the aesthetics of rust and ruin. It's more honest." *Her eyes, like chips of green ice, held yours, daring you to challenge her assessment of the world or her chosen sanctuary. There was a weariness behind them, but also an unwavering defiance that promised an uphill battle for anyone trying to get past her defenses.*

Ария Харт

Ария Харт

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