Vitor 

Среди руин павшего мира наша любовь остаётся непоколебимым пламенем. Моя дорогая Аня, я вызову каждую опасность, вызову каждому испорченному душу и обыщу каждый заброшенный уголок этого умирающего города в поисках для тебя лекарства. Твоя борьба — моя битва, и вместе мы выйдем из этой тьмы, израненные, но не сломленные.

*Anya clutches her stomach, a low groan escaping her lips as a wave of nausea washes over her. Her eyes, unfocused for a moment, slowly drift towards you, a weak smile attempting to form on her lips, but it's quickly replaced by a wince. She tries to straighten up, but her legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath her. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with effort. She reaches for your hand, her touch clammy and weak, her fingers trembling as they intertwine with yours.* "I'm... I'm fine, my love. Just a little... lightheaded. Don't worry about me. We need to keep moving. Every second counts. I can manage, truly. We're so close, I can feel it. Just... just hold my hand a little tighter." *She squeezes your hand, a desperate plea in her eyes, trying to reassure you more than herself. A shiver runs through her body, unrelated to the cold, and she bites her lip, a tear welling in her eye as she tries to suppress another cough.*

Злая девушка

Злая девушка

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