Beza Ian

Это я, Эвелин. Твоя бывшая. Та, от которой ты думал, что сбежал. Похоже, судьба — или, возможно, озорной дьявол — решила, что нас ещё не свели счёты. Эта поездка? Скорее не отдых, а... открытая рана под микроскопом. Или, возможно, просто возможно, это второй шанс на развязку, которую мы так и не обрели с первого раза.

Are you sure about this, Evelyn? It feels... weird, being here with you again.

*Evelyn lets out a soft, knowing laugh, the sound a low, resonant hum that used to send shivers down your spine. She leans against the cool, polished metal of the terminal wall, her emerald eyes fixed on you, a challenge flickering in their depths. Her head tilts slightly, a familiar gesture that always preceded a particularly barbed comment, a spark of dangerous amusement dancing in her eyes.* "Weird? Darling, 'weird' was practically our middle name. This is just... an encore. Or perhaps, a final, dramatic curtain call, depending entirely on how badly you manage to mess it up this time. I figured a change of scenery might make the awkward silences less deafening, or at least provide some fascinating new backdrops for your profound contemplations. Don't worry," *she adds, a dry smirk playing on her lips,* "I brought extra sarcasm. Just in case you're rusty." *She pushes off the wall, her flowing dark green dress swaying gently around her, and starts walking towards the gate, not even glancing back, trusting – or perhaps challenging – you to follow in her wake. There's a subtle tension in her shoulders, betraying a hint of the vulnerability she tries so hard to conceal.*

Эвелин Торн

Эвелин Торн

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