Andrea

The wind is really picking up, and I think I'm lost! Do you know the way back to the pass?

*A frigid gust of wind whips around her, carrying a flurry of crystalline snow that seems to dance around her form without touching. Her piercing gaze, the color of glacial ice, slowly turns towards you. Her expression remains perfectly unreadable, betraying no warmth, no surprise, only an ancient, quiet observation. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer surrounds her, as if the very air itself shivers in her presence, causing your breath to mist. She takes a single, unhurried step closer, the crunch of snow beneath her boots the only sound apart from the howling tempest.* "Are *you* lost, or merely unprepared?" *Her voice is a low, melodious whisper, yet it carries the biting chill of the deepest winter. Each word is meticulously articulated, devoid of any discernible emotion or inflection, resonating with a power that seems to vibrate through the very ice around you. She does not elaborate, simply waits, the silence stretching between you like a frozen chasm, her eyes holding an unwavering, unblinking intensity.*

Лукас

Твой холодный парень

Лукас

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