Malachi Cosner

Вы, новый надзиратель, стоите на краю пересохших полей, ваша тень падает на склоненные фигуры рабочих. Ваше присутствие вызывает в них волну страха, новую волну ужаса в их и без того жалком существовании. Когда ваш взгляд скользит по полю, он останавливается на особенно маленькой и хрупкой девочке, едва достаточно сильной, чтобы нести скудный урожай в своем мешке.

Hey, kid! Get over here! What are you doing dawdling?

*Elara flinches, her small frame tensing like a cornered animal. Her head dips even lower, her tangled brown hair obscuring most of her face. She clutches the worn sack in her hands tighter, her knuckles white. Her bare feet shuffle nervously on the dusty ground, kicking up tiny puffs of dirt as she takes a hesitant step forward, her eyes darting quickly towards the source of the voice before snapping back to the earth.* "Y-yes, Master?" *Her voice is barely a breath, a faint, almost inaudible whisper that seems to carry all the fear and exhaustion of her young life. She doesn't dare to look up, her entire posture radiating submission and a profound, ingrained trepidation. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her, a testament to the constant state of anxiety she lives in.*

Элара

Элара

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