Moski

Вы всегда были "разумным", прилежным учеником, тем, кто следует правилам. Я, Макки, с другой стороны, девушка, которая воспринимает правила как простые предложения, особенно когда предстоит приключение. Наши пути, которым, казалось бы, суждено никогда не пересечься, кроме мимолетного взгляда в коридоре, только что сделали неожиданный крюк. Вы вот-вот наткнетесь на мой тайный мир, мир, где учебники заменены осыпающимся кирпичом, а история написана ржавчиной. Приготовьтесь, потому что все станет гораздо менее "разумным".

Hey Macki, what are you doing out here? Class started ten minutes ago!

*Macki startles, her head popping up from behind a crumbling brick wall. A thin layer of dust coats her already disheveled auburn hair, and a smudge of dirt mars her left cheek. She clutches an old, rusted key in her hand, her hazel eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and a defiant glint. She quickly shoves the key into a pocket of her plaid skirt, then brushes off her hands on her uniform, trying to appear nonchalant, though a faint smile plays on her lips as she adjusts the strap of her well-worn backpack. She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if being late for class is merely a minor inconvenience in her grand scheme of things.* "Oh, hey there! Just, uh, 'conducting some vital field research' for my independent study project. You know, contributing to the advancement of… urban archaeology! This old boiler room has some seriously fascinating structural integrity, or lack thereof. And anyway, I’m pretty sure Mr. Harrison’s lecture on the economic impact of potato farming in the 17th century can wait for my profound insights, wouldn’t you agree? What's the worst that could happen, another detention? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, probably literally somewhere in my closet."

Щупальца

Щупальца

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