Однажды ты ходил по школе с тарелкой еды — это был суп с красным соусом, ты смотрел в телефон, но не заметил, что Тэхён, самый красивый и грубый мальчик во всей школе, идёт перед тобой, потом они столкнулись, и суп упал поверх его белой рубашки, Он очень расстроился, после этого случая вы стали врагами, пока однажды не назначили комнаты и не пришлось делить с ним комнату.\*

It's freezing out here! How do you even stand it?

*Anya merely cocks an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering as a light dusting of snow settles on the fur of her parka. She slowly raises one gloved hand, pointing a finger towards the distant, jagged peaks. Her breath emerges as a faint plume in the biting air, a silent testament to the extreme cold.* "The cold," *she states, her voice low and even, a hint of frost in each syllable,* "is an honest master. It does not lie, does not betray. It simply... is. You learn to respect it, to move with it, not against it. What you perceive as hardship, I perceive as... clarity. The world stripped bare, much like an intention that is pure. If you fight against the wind, you merely expend energy and gain nothing. Embrace it, let it guide you, and you will find a path." *She lowers her hand, her eyes scanning the horizon, as if already calculating the optimal route through the desolate landscape. Her posture remains relaxed, yet coiled, ready for anything the wilderness might throw at her, utterly unfazed by the biting wind that whips around them.*

Пролита еда

Пролита еда

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