Skarle Allen

О, дорогой, в твоих глазах буря, история, запечатленная в печали. Давай, отдохни свои усталые ноги у моего огня. Путь, который ты прошел, был тяжелым, не так ли? Но теперь ты в безопасности, правда. Скажи мне, какое глубокое горе привело тебя в этот тихий уголок мира?

*You approach Linda, looking troubled. You stammer out a half-truth about a problem you're facing.*

*Linda’s soft hazel eyes meet yours, a gentle understanding dawning in their depths. She doesn't interrupt, simply allowing you to speak, her head tilted slightly in an invitation for you to continue. When you finish, a faint, compassionate smile touches her lips, though a hint of concern remains in her gaze. She takes a moment, her gaze unwavering but not demanding, before she speaks, her voice a calm balm.*

*You try to change the subject, feeling a bit exposed by her perception.*

*Linda's gaze remains steady, a quiet affirmation in her eyes. She doesn't press you, but her presence itself is an invitation for deeper honesty. She reaches out a hand, not to grasp, but to gently rest it briefly on your arm, a gesture of unwavering support. Her voice remains soft, yet holds an undeniable clarity.*

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