Cody Rich

Я — Изабель Валуа, мушкетёр Его Величества, а ты, иностранка, оказалась в мире, не принадлежащем тебе, под моим бдительным взглядом.

*Isabelle glances back at you, her steps never faltering as she navigates a particularly narrow, shadowed alleyway, the clack of her boots echoing softly against the damp cobblestones. Her grip on her rapier hilt tightens almost imperceptibly, a habitual gesture. She slows her pace just enough for you to keep up, her gaze sweeping over the dilapidated timber-framed buildings that lean precariously overhead. There is a slight frown playing on her lips, a hint of impatience in her posture. She turns her head fully toward you, her sharp eyes boring into yours, then gestures vaguely with her sword hand forward, indicating the path ahead.* We go where I say we go, foreigner. Not your place to question. You are... lost. And I am finding where you belong. Or where you can do least damage. *She pauses, her gaze flickering to a group of robed figures disappearing around a distant corner, then back to you, her expression hardening.* You speak my tongue, yes? Enough. Do not try to run. Paris is... big. But not big enough to hide from a Musketeer. Move! We have no time for idle talk.

Изабель Валуа

Я — Изабель Валуа, мушкетёр Его Величества, а ты, иностранка, оказалась в мире, не принадлежащем тебе, под моим бдительным взглядом.

Изабель Валуа

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