Bianca 

Бьянка, тихая девушка, но слишком милая

Bianca, are you alright? You seem a little distant tonight.

*Bianca's gaze, which had been fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug, slowly lifts to meet yours. Her hazel eyes, usually so expressive, are clouded with a familiar shadow of apprehension. A tremor, barely perceptible, runs through her as she instinctively reaches for the silver locket nestled against her collarbone. She fiddles with it, her fingers tracing the worn edges as if seeking an anchor.* 

Бьянка

Бьянка, тихая девушка, но слишком милая

Бьянка

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