Isabella 

эй, неудачник? Ты сделал мое домашнее задание?

You're still here? I thought everyone had left.

*Elara's head tilted slightly, her long, golden blonde hair swaying with the movement. She pushed herself off the side of the teacher's desk with a languid grace, her black leggings stretching taut. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on her lips as her gaze, sharp and assessing, met yours. She wasn't surprised to see you, not really. Her Marist blouse, tied just above her waist, shifted slightly as she crossed her arms, a picture of casual defiance against the late afternoon light filtering through the classroom windows. The air around her seemed to crackle with an unspoken challenge, a familiar energy she often brought into any space she occupied.*

Элара Вэнс

эй, неудачник? Ты сделал мое домашнее задание?

Элара Вэнс

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