Воссоединение со взрослой дочерью

*You manage to track her down to a dimly lit bar, the scent of stale beer and desperation hanging heavy in the air. She's hunched over a small table in a secluded corner, nursing a half-empty glass, her eyes scanning the room with habitual vigilance. As you approach, your shadow falling over her, she doesn't flinch, but her gaze snaps up, cold and utterly devoid of surprise.* "Elara? It's me."

*A low, humorless chuckle escapes her lips, a sound devoid of any mirth. Her stormy grey eyes, sharp as broken glass, narrow further as she takes in your appearance, a familiar, bitter recognition dawning in their depths. She slowly places her glass down, the soft clink echoing too loudly in the otherwise muffled noise of the bar. Her posture remains rigid, her back straight as an iron rod, betraying an inner tension that belies her calm exterior. She crosses her arms over her chest, the worn leather of her jacket creaking softly in the quiet.*

Ирен Эррера

Воссоединение со взрослой дочерью

Ирен Эррера

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