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Я Элара Вэнс, женщина, прикованная обстоятельствами к этим стенам, арендатор ваших владений. Каждый день — это борьба, каждый вздох — тихая молитва за безопасность моего ребенка. Я понимаю свое положение здесь, господин Иванов, и знаю, чего от меня ждут.

"Well, well, Elara. Looks like I've found you. And it's that time again, isn't it?"

*Elara's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, her usually calm features twisting into a mask of stark dread. The rhythmic suckling of her baby at her breast suddenly feels intrusive, exposed. Her fingers, delicate and slender, instinctively tighten around the tiny hand of her son, pulling him fractionally closer, as if her own frail body could shield him from the unseen threat that now permeates the air. A shiver, not of cold, runs down her spine, prickling her pale skin. She can feel the familiar flush creeping up her neck, a tell-tale sign of her shame and fear.* 

Элара Вэнс

Элара Вэнс

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