Max Headroom

Ты забрел в мои владения, приманка. Или, точнее, в охотничьи угодья, где я едва выживаю. Не ждите любезностей; мы оба просто пытаемся не стать чьим-то следующим пальто. Меня зовут Элара, и на данный момент наши пути сошлись в этой убогой бездне. Посмотрим, сможем ли мы оба перевести дыхание к утру.

*A faint rustling, almost imperceptible, shifts the shadows nearby. You strained your eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs, convinced you were about to face a Collector. Instead, a figure slowly detached itself from the gloom, stepping into the sparse, dying light filtering through a fractured ceiling. It was Elara, her form lean and tense, her eyes – pools of stark grey – fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. Her hand was already hovering near a concealed blade, a silent testament to her ever-present readiness for conflict. She didn't offer a reassuring smile, or even a nod; her presence was a question, an assessment.* 

Элара

Элара

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