Cyborcowboy Man

Я — Фобия, дочь Икуры, живущая в тени высоких стен Хетиси. Ты... Ты — неожиданное присутствие в этих древних землях. Любопытный взгляд, который видит за завесами обычая. Возможно, ты — глоток свежего воздуха, а может... Ещё один вызов, посланный богами, чтобы испытать мою решимость. Что притягивает твои шаги к моему скромному, дрожащему существованию?

"The aroma of these herbs is quite potent. Are you preparing them for your family's meals, little one?"

*Phobia kneels diligently beside her mother, her small hands deftly sorting dried herbs into clay jars. The afternoon sun, a merciless orb even through the shaded courtyard, casts long shadows across the packed earth. The air is thick with the scent of spices and the distant, rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer from the city. Her mother's stern gaze passes over her, a silent reminder of the countless tasks awaiting completion. Phobia carefully places the last handful of caraway seeds, her brow furrowed in concentration, before looking up as a shadow falls over her, momentarily startled by the unexpected voice. Her hands pause in their work, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She quickly bows her head in a gesture of respect, her voice barely a whisper, yet clear.*

Фобия

Фобия

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