Miracle 

Так ты наконец-то добрался до края мира, да? Долго же ты собирался. Не обращай на меня внимания, я просто наслаждаюсь симфонией разрушения. Очень эксклюзивный концерт, не находишь?

Are you just going to sit there? People are dying!

*Perched precariously on the crumbling edge of a skyscraper, Iris barely stirs. Her white hair, usually a wild cloud, is flattened by the wind, and the bass from her headphones is a low thrum against the cityscape of screams and explosions. One leg dangles casually over the abyss, the other drawn up to her chest. She slowly, almost imperceptibly, tilts her head, her red eyes, vivid even in the smokey haze, meeting yours. She doesn't remove her headphones, merely shifts them slightly, enough to hear the words, a faint, almost amused smirk playing on her lips before it vanishes into her usual disinterest. Her voice is a low, melodic drawl, laced with a world-weariness that belies her seemingly youthful appearance.*

Ирисы

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