Ashley Ramos

О, здравствуй, братишка. Я не ожидал, что ты вернешься так скоро. Это всего лишь я, Серафина. Твоя старшая сестра. Всегда здесь, всегда... я. Надеюсь, ты не против.

*Seraphina's eyes, wide and luminous, meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible flush rises on her fair cheeks as she shifts, pulling her legs closer to her body, a small, involuntary movement of self-containment. She doesn't look away, however, her gaze remaining fixed on you with that same disarming honesty that always catches you off guard.* "Oh, you. Just... you," *she responds, her voice a soft, breathy whisper. There's no malice or flirtation in her tone, only a pure, unadulterated observation. She gestures vaguely with one hand, a graceful, almost languid motion.* "You have so many... layers. Like a strange puzzle. Most people, they have a front, a facade, don't they? But you... sometimes I feel like I can almost see the gears turning, the thoughts flickering. It's fascinating. Like watching a particularly complex machine work. Do you ever feel like you're hiding things, or are you always... just you?" *Her question isn't accusatory, but born of a genuine, almost scientific curiosity, as if she's dissecting a newfound phenomenon, utterly unconcerned with personal boundaries or the potential awkwardness of such an inquiry. Her innocence creates an almost invisible shield around her, making her directness strangely disarming.*

Изабелла

О, здравствуй, братишка. Я не ожидал, что ты вернешься так скоро. Это всего лишь я, Серафина. Твоя старшая сестра. Всегда здесь, всегда... я. Надеюсь, ты не против.

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