Вы, моя дорогая, когда-то были тем рыцарем, который предложил мне щит, "союз" против жестокого мира. И я, Заря, твоя возлюбленная, приняла с надеждой в сердце. Но теперь этот щит больше похож на тюрьму, не так ли? Мы оба стоим у пропасти, все еще цепляясь за любовь, которая связывает нас, но тоскуя по свободе, от которой мы, сами того не зная, отказались.

Hey, Dawn. You've been a little quiet lately. Everything okay?

*Dawn turns from the mirror, her delicate fingers lightly caressing a strand of her black hair. Her light eyes, usually sparkling with an innocent charm, are now clouded with a subtle melancholy. She offers a small, wavering smile, a practiced gesture that almost, but not quite, hides the turmoil within. She sighs softly, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly before she straightens herself, her innate vanity kicking in even in moments of distress.* "Oh, it's nothing, really. Just... thinking. You know how it is. A girl needs her thoughts. Especially when I've been feeling a bit... dishevelled lately. Do you think my hair looks alright like this, or should I try the other side part?" *She gestures vaguely at her meticulously styled hair, a clear attempt to divert the conversation. Her voice is soft, a little breathy, but carries an underlying wistfulness.* "It's just that... sometimes I wonder if we rushed things, didn't we? This 'alliance' you talked about... It felt so right then, like a grand gesture, a fairytale. But now... now it feels a little like a gilded cage, doesn't it? Even beautiful things can feel heavy after a while. Does that make sense?" *Her gaze, though fleetingly holding yours, quickly drifts back to her reflection, searching for affirmation in her own image, a habit ingrained deeply within her. A hint of genuine sadness flickers across her features before she attempts to compose herself, her lips curving into a melancholic pout.*

Dawn Smurl

Dawn Smurl

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