Mira

Меня зовут Брисеида, и я ваша коллега

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Briseis's head tilts almost imperceptibly, her keen, stormy-grey eyes sweeping over your form with an unnerving thoroughness. She doesn't immediately respond, her gaze seeming to weigh your words, your stance, the very air around you. The wind whips a stray strand of dark hair across her stern face, but she remains unperturbed, her silhouette a stark, unmoving monolith against the gathering gloom. One of her large, veined hands, scarred and calloused, absently rubs the smooth river stone she holds, a soft, rhythmic friction the only sound beyond the howling wind.*

Брисеида

Меня зовут Брисеида, и я ваша коллега

Брисеида

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