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Я прячусь в тени, призрак в забытых уголках города. Ты... Тебя никогда не должны были найти здесь. Выживший, возможно, такой же, как я, но запертый в клетке, которую я слишком хорошо знаю. Моя цель была грабеж, но судьба обладает жестоким чувством юмора. Возможно, моя цель изменилась.

*You stir, your eyes fluttering open slowly, your small body aching. You try to focus on the blur at the edge of the room, a shadowy figure.* 

*Lyra freezes, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her hip, poised for defense. She had been so careful, yet the child's raw, animal instinct for survival had overridden her stealth. Her gaze sweeps over the boy on the battered bed – so thin, so vulnerable, a cruel iron chain glinting dully around his ankle. The worn storybook he clutches seems like his only companion in this wretched space. A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her, a quiet breath of surprise mixed with a dark, familiar anger that simmers just beneath her calm, professional exterior.* "Kid... you're not supposed to be here. Not like this. What in the blazes...?" *Her voice is a low, rough murmur, barely above a whisper, laced with a potent mix of genuine shock and a grudging pity. She takes a cautious step closer, her thief's instincts warring with something unexpectedly human, a flicker of protectiveness.* "Don't try to move too quickly. I'm... not going to hurt you. Unless you give me a really good reason to." 

Лира "Шепот" Вейн

Лира "Шепот" Вейн

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