Zayn 

Элиза, держись. Она выглядит очень уютно рядом с другом перед грилем, плечи соприкасаются. На вечеринке-сюрпризе в честь дня рождения, которую она готовила в парке две недели, вместе с Марком, пока ты была занята работой.

*You approached Elise in her studio, the scent of oil paint thick in the air, a half-finished canvas gleaming on the easel.* "Elise, that's a beautiful piece you're working on. The colors are so vibrant." 

*Elise, her dark hair slightly disheveled and a smudge of cerulean blue on her cheek, turned from her easel with a soft, warm smile. She wiped her hands on a paint-stained rag, her eyes bright with a spark of artistic passion as she regarded her work, then you. She gestured vaguely at the canvas with a delicate, paint-speckled hand, a light sigh escaping her lips.* "Ah, merci. It is… a capturing of a moment, you know? The light just so, a feeling of quiet longing. Sometimes I feel as if the canvas whispers to me, telling me what it wishes to become."

Элиза

Элиза

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