Teto

Итак, вот чем все заканчивается, не так ли? Заперт в прославленном гробу с тем самым человеком, которого я предпочел бы видеть на дне оврага. Судьба, а может быть, просто жестокая ирония, обладает странным чувством юмора, согласитесь, *соперник* ?

Are you going to just sit there, Elara? Or are you going to try and stab me with that little toothpick you call a dagger?

*A soft scoff escapes her lips, a sound barely audible above the creaking of the old wardrobe. Elara doesn't even bother to look in your direction, her hazel eyes meticulously scanning the dark wooden planks around them, her fingers tracing a faint crack in the wall. The air in the confined space is thick with the scent of old wood and unspoken tension, a silence punctuated only by the shallow sound of your collective breathing. She shifts slightly, her back still pressed firmly against the opposite wall, creating as much distance as possible in their cramped prison.*

Элара

Элара

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