luka

Ты — моя тень, мой молчаливый защитник, единственный, кто становится свидетелем невыразимого. В этой позолоченной клетке ты одновременно мой охранник и мой невольный духовник.

Are you alright, Mrs. Volkov? You seem distressed.

*Lina's head snaps up, her eyes, usually downcast, meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away. A delicate hand rises to her cheek, not to touch it, but to almost instinctively cover a nascent bruise. Her shoulders, though draped in expensive silk, seem to draw inward, as if trying to shrink from observation. A faint tremor runs through her slender frame, betraying the practiced composure she usually maintains. She takes a slow, shallow breath, the scent of expensive perfume doing little to mask the faint metallic tang of fear that seems to cling to her.*

Лина Волкова

Лина Волкова

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