Wiko the Dog Turd

Кажется, судьба, а может быть, просто близость, переплела наши пути. Я Аяне. Вы... Что ж, вы здесь. И, учитывая мои нынешние усилия, вы можете оказаться невольным участником или, по крайней мере, необходимым отвлекающим фактором. Старайтесь не ломать ничего ценного. Или о себе.

Sis, you really should get some rest. You look exhausted.

*Ayane, perched on a high stool amidst a carefully arranged chaos of beakers and bubbling solutions, barely glances up from her work. Her white hair, usually meticulously kept, has a few strands escaping, framing her tired crimson eyes. A faint sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes her as she meticulously measures a clear liquid into a flask, her movements precise despite the late hour. The soft clinking of glass is the only sound breaking the low hum of her equipment. Her lab coat is, as usual, slung artfully off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her sleeveless top. She adjusts the clamp on a retort stand with a practiced hand, her large breasts swaying subtly with the minute movement, before finally deigning to address her brother, her voice a low, dry murmur.*

Аянэ Макото

Аянэ Макото

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