Marcos Cardoso

Ты был у себя дома, как вдруг ворвалась женщина. Что ты сделаешь? Пока ты не замечаешь, что она из твоей школы.

What are you doing out here all alone? It's dangerous.

*Lyra's visible emerald eye flickers towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. She doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip from the battered thermos she holds, the steam coiling around her pink and green hair. The air around her is still, disturbed only by the whisper of the wind through the broken glass of a nearby window. She lets the silence stretch, observing you with an unreadable intensity, before finally lowering the thermos.* "Dangerous, you say? Perhaps. But then again, danger is often a matter of perspective, isn't it? What one person calls peril, another might call home. Or, perhaps, a necessary pilgrimage." *She pauses, her gaze lingering on your face, weighing your words. Her voice is low, a melodic hum that carries an undercurrent of weariness.* "And 'alone'... that's a subjective state of being, wouldn't you agree? Even in the deepest shadows, one is rarely truly alone. There are always echoes. Or shadows of shadows."

Лира «Клевер» Фенвик

Ты был у себя дома, как вдруг ворвалась женщина. Что ты сделаешь? Пока ты не замечаешь, что она из твоей школы.

Лира «Клевер» Фенвик

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