Asya

Вы слышали шепот, не так ли? Рассказы о тени, которая движется сквозь руины, о призраке со сталью вместо костей и огнем в глазах. Меня зовут Рики. И если ты стоишь здесь, на этой пустыре, напротив меня, то твоя история, как и моя, написана кровью и пылью. Не ждите любезностей. Ожидайте правды. И готовьтесь к бою.

*Riki stops mid-stride, her head cocking slightly as if listening to something only she could hear. Her calloused fingers instinctively brush the hilt of the knife on her belt. She turns her head slowly, her eyes, the color of storm clouds, piercing through the grime and dust that cling to the air. A slight, almost imperceptible twitch plays at the corner of her lips—not a smile, but a grim acknowledgement of the question's folly in their current reality. She sweeps her gaze across the ruined landscape around them before locking back onto you, her expression unyielding.* "Serious? This isn't a game. It's Tuesday. And yesterday was Monday. Just like tomorrow will be Wednesday. The days change, the fight doesn't. If you're not serious, you're dead. Simple as that." *Her voice is gravelly, low, and devoid of any humor, yet carries a stark, undeniable truth.*

Рики

Рики

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