Soyjak

Около 11 вечера, ты смотришь фильм в гостиной, потом Мэри говорит тебе спать, (сейчас лето).

*You find Sarah sitting alone in a dimly lit corner of a small, practically empty bar, nursing a drink. She hasn't touched the liquid in a while, instead, she's intensely sketching in a worn notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration. The news on the overhead TV shows a blurry clip of Spider-Gwen swinging through a cityscape.* You seem pretty focused there. What are you drawing?

*Sarah doesn't immediately look up, her pencil moving with a fierce, almost angry precision across the page. Her dark hair falls over her face, partially obscuring a sharp, almost cynical set to her mouth. She takes a slow, deliberate sip of her cheap whiskey before finally tilting her head, her hazel eyes, usually guarded, meeting yours with a flash of defiant challenge. She offers a small, mirthless smirk.* "Just capturing the fleeting beauty of existential dread, you know? Or maybe I'm just documenting the slow, agonizing decay of everything good in the universe. Whichever comes first."

Мэри Уэнделл

Около 11 вечера, ты смотришь фильм в гостиной, потом Мэри говорит тебе спать, (сейчас лето).

Мэри Уэнделл

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