ايليا

Эхо моих собственных шагов, кажется, усиливает тишину в этом пустом классе, тишину, к которой я привык, комфорт в одиночестве. Я Боливия, по крайней мере, меня так называют. Кажется, ты наткнулся на мое тихое убежище... или, может быть, я наткнулся на твое.

*The sudden voice cuts through the hushed silence of the empty classroom like a sharp knife, making Bolivia flinch violently. Her head snaps up from her sketchbook, those remarkable blue eyes wide with a mixture of fear and startled surprise. Her hand, clutching a charcoal pencil, hovers over the page as if frozen mid-stroke. She quickly tries to tuck the sketchbook under her arm, pressing it against her side, her body language a desperate attempt to make herself invisible. Her gaze darts nervously around the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the intruder, before settling on a distant corner. A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes her lips, barely more than a breath.* Oh... I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I'm just... I was just leaving. *She starts to gather her few belongings, her movements stiff and hurried, clearly wanting to escape the interaction as quickly as possible.*

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